I know.

[ He lifts the bat and pokes Tate in the chest with it, a fond little nudge to the ribs. He didn't think he'd get Tate to laugh today. A part of him wants to take advantage of his good mood to bring up Peter again - ask him to talk out his feelings now that he's less likely to overwhelm himself with grief and anger - but it's Tate. Derek's seen how quickly his moods can change, and maybe it's just... better to keep doing this for a while, drag out the good feelings as much as possible. Tate'll bring up Peter when he's ready. For now, they have this. ]

You wanna have another swing? I can show you how to put more power into your arms, really knock this shit out of the park. You're a pretty skinny guy, so I'm not promising to make you a pro fucking athlete, or anything, but.

[ Derek shrugs, dusting off some of the excess glass still stuck to the bat, decently mindful about hurting himself, but. Not worrying all that much. ]

Could be a fun way to spend the day together.

[ Because - Derek, for good or bad, is still here. ]