[Tate doesn't quite believe he's the most important thing in Derek's life, but he wants to believe it so - he won't try to tank his own mood by retorting to that. In fact he just kind of quirks a smile, dropping his head as if to disguise it in the motion of putting his cigarette out on the wall. Unlike Derek, Tate has no qualms with flicking a spent butt onto the pavement.]

We can make a couple stops on the way. Food, booze - just some stuff for the shelves?

[He nods his head, like he's satisfied with this plan and ready to just nest up and stay in for a while. He's not overtly social, preferring the calm of the beachside waves and the sounds from up in the treehouse loft late at night to anything else. He's more blessed by this arrangement than he really can comprehend, taking advantage of so much the way he is.]

Not sure if now's the time but - I've been thinking about the treehouse. Y'think we can expand it a bit? With like an addition or some shit.