Alec waits, but he's very unsure about it (taking nonverbal cues from a wolf, it turns out, is more of an art than a science)—in fact, he's about to belatedly follow after standing there wondering if maybe he'd misinterpreted for the full minute, when Jacob steps back out.

Alec's brain shuts completely off for a solid five seconds in a row. "Um," he says, very helpfully. Then, "I, uh—" Shit. His brain reboots mercilessly late, and Alec's head jerks up so fast from where he had accidentally ("accidentally") been staring at Jacob's chest that there is the telltale quiet crack of a popped joint. Cool, cool. If the demon could swoop in and kill him right now, that'd be great. Alec's eyes close for a second as he visualizes grinding useless things like desire into dust and then setting them on fire, before re-centering.

He's on a mission, damn it. Head in the game. We, Jacob said, which at least is confirmation of what he'd suspected. "Unless you've got a lot of holy weapons stashed around here," he pinches the arrow where it's still loosely nocked in his bow with two fingers to gesture pointedly with it, waving it in a small circle through the air in a way that won't bring it back up to bear. "All you're going to do is snap at its heels until it starts to eat your youngest." He is, of course, presuming that there's anyone genuinely young in Jacob's pack, because who knows what age anyone is when you start getting involved with immortal species, but he figures it gets the point across.