[Tate takes his time outside, not in a rush to go back in and get a death glare or another You Should've Told Me. He sits down with his back to the wall of this little ledge that might one day become a balcony if they finish this damn thing and he just sits. Cobain makes marble-sounding noises, yowling like she's complaining after Derek leaves. Her ears are pinned back and her eyes wide, claws out against the wood. He rubs his fingers together to get her attention a few times, and it's no miraculous process. It takes maybe twenty minutes for him to get her to come close, but she won't let him scoop her up.
He decides to leave her, for the time being, and goes back inside - solemn and subdued as he leaves the makeshift door open incase she gets ballsy. He just looks at Derek, on the bed, and wets his lips before walking over to to the stash of snacks. He takes a few fuzzy peaches in his hand and silently joins Derek on the bed, chewing on slightly stale candy. His cuts have healed too, smears of blood over his hands from fidgeting with the wounds while sitting with the cat outside.]
She's spooked. I don't think she's gonna come in, not for a while.
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He decides to leave her, for the time being, and goes back inside - solemn and subdued as he leaves the makeshift door open incase she gets ballsy. He just looks at Derek, on the bed, and wets his lips before walking over to to the stash of snacks. He takes a few fuzzy peaches in his hand and silently joins Derek on the bed, chewing on slightly stale candy. His cuts have healed too, smears of blood over his hands from fidgeting with the wounds while sitting with the cat outside.]
She's spooked. I don't think she's gonna come in, not for a while.
[Happy, you stupid dog?]
I wanted that introduction to go better.