[Tate sighs. The sigh of a kid when their parent doesn't give in the way they want - when they're forced to slick down their hair for church or told hey, no Mc D's for lunch today get in the car. Tate looks annoyed, but he drags the bat over the balcony floor board and picks it up again. Waves it as if to say fine, and gets ready. This time, out of all three attempts - he's more focused. Expectant and anticipating what's to come.]
C'mon, then.
[Derek throws it, Tate tracks it - and then he swings. It's not as angrily raw as earlier hits, it's more focused and honed. It connects, hitting the bottle higher into the treeline so that it rains down glass with the most satisfying of cracks so far. Tate, who was ready to call it quits, stares silently in the wake of it, watching as what looks like diamond dust rains down from the pine trees.
He swallows hard, and is silent for a long beat. If his heartbeat was present, it'd be thrumming in his chest - every other sign on his body points to something being thrilling instead of jaw-tensingly irksome. He exhales hard, then looks to Derek.]
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C'mon, then.
[Derek throws it, Tate tracks it - and then he swings. It's not as angrily raw as earlier hits, it's more focused and honed. It connects, hitting the bottle higher into the treeline so that it rains down glass with the most satisfying of cracks so far. Tate, who was ready to call it quits, stares silently in the wake of it, watching as what looks like diamond dust rains down from the pine trees.
He swallows hard, and is silent for a long beat. If his heartbeat was present, it'd be thrumming in his chest - every other sign on his body points to something being thrilling instead of jaw-tensingly irksome. He exhales hard, then looks to Derek.]
... That one went pretty far.