[ Derek keeps his eyes on Tate, completely silent, just-- watching, hawk-eyed and protective. It's something of a relief when Tate actually does stockpile on a few tiny scraps of food, though a part of Derek would have preferred him to make a few shitty comments and shoot him down than to just-- drift, like this. When Tate starts migrating with his plate towards the living room, Derek nods, standing up straight and pushing back from the counter. ]
Couch.
[ He doesn't waste time with a plate, only keeping the tupperware on hand as he moves, partially because he doesn't want to bother getting one out of the cupboards when Tate's sticking so close to his side. He drifts towards the couch and takes a seat, patting the seat next to him in case Tate feels in any way like he can't stick as close to him as he needs to, and with his feet on the coffee table in front of him, Derek goes back to eating, quietly trying to process everything these last few days might mean. ]
no subject
Couch.
[ He doesn't waste time with a plate, only keeping the tupperware on hand as he moves, partially because he doesn't want to bother getting one out of the cupboards when Tate's sticking so close to his side. He drifts towards the couch and takes a seat, patting the seat next to him in case Tate feels in any way like he can't stick as close to him as he needs to, and with his feet on the coffee table in front of him, Derek goes back to eating, quietly trying to process everything these last few days might mean. ]
... You wanna talk about the boat?