Alright, that's a good first step. The tension in Alec's shoulders relaxes just enough that he doesn't look like he might strain something anymore, and he finally looks around to see if he can spot other shifters without actually turning away from Jacob. There's olive branches, and then there's recklessness, but either way it seems like they're staying out of sight for now if they do exist, which is fine by Alec. Just this one horse-sized wolf is definitely enough for him to face down for now.

"You're having trouble tracking it, right? It can become incorporeal, turn into mist." In case Jacob didn't already know that, of course. Slowly enough that it won't seem threatening, Alec reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws a small, capped vial of viscous black liquid, which fits in the cradle of his palm. It's ichor from the creature—demon blood—and it's the way he'd manage to track it out to the middle of the forest here in the first place. Not that that's necessarily obvious, so he clarifies: "But I can find it with this, I just can't shoot it if it sees me coming."

Which is the subtlest way he can think up to tell Jacob that he needs someone to act as bait. Frankly, Alec has no idea whether this conversation would be more or less awkward if he wasn't the only one currently capable of speech in it.