[ Derek was the one who said he'd take care of Tate, so even though the price is turning out pretty fucking steep, he can't exactly tell him to make a more sensible order. Derek pays cash and misses the distant financial stability he had back home - it's not the first time he's been reminded how he took the Hale cash for granted, but it is what it is.

Tate points him towards the photo booth, and Derek follows, hands on his jacket pocket and fiddling with the burnt out shreds of their old cigarettes. He can still smell smoke, even under all the food.

I'm a happy beta. Shit, has Derek been smiling this whole time? He scrubs his hand down his jaw, focusing on the booth in front or him. ]

Probably pretty skeevy in there, given how Duplicity works. They'll photoshop us to look, like, mid-bdsm. At the very least, covered in cum.