[ Derek was expecting something like this to happen, so when Tate's composure breaks and he starts to slip, he's ready to help however he can. He takes Tate's plate and moves it to the table, quickly doing the same with his fork and his own food, moving fast while Tate's voice cracks under the strain of how loudly he's starting to talk. ]

Okay. Okay. Here -

[ He twists in place, gets himself facing Tate more directly, and he puts a hand on Tate's chest, just for the connection. He doesn't want to pull the poor guy into a hug, or something, if he's just going to feel trapped and lose his shit, but he still doubles down on the physical contact to keep him anchored. ]

I can help you. I can get into your head with my claws, I can - try to make it clearer. I can take those memories away from you, if you don't want to see them.