[ Contrary to what Kavinsky might be thinking, there's actually something decidedly refreshing about the Kate Argent Thing being met with an easy, solid fuck that bitch. Derek doesn't share things from his past very easily - to the point that even after knowing Kavinsky for two years, referencing her at all feels like it's happening way too soon - but the few times it's come out, people have either pitied him or accused him of deserving what happened to him, as if by merit of being a werewolf alone, he lost his right to live safely. It's nice to just hear... detached, easy anger. Derek appreciates that.

He can tell Kavinsky's about to move before it even happens. It's in his eyes, in the way he looks at Derek, and Derek, face impassive, wonders if he should put a stop to it before it starts. Instead, he just - answers, quietly, waiting for Kavinsky to make his move. ]

It's not all bad. The people I meet here are kind. Kinder than I'm used to. Almost makes it worthwhile, even when they end up leaving.

[ And then Kavinsky's straddling him, his weight against his lap, and Derek's bracing his hand on the bed for support, staying where he is. He's... getting used to being careful with his words, saying what he needs to say to avoid sounding like he's rejecting people too afraid of rejection to be able to handle it when it comes their way, but he's still worried Kavinsky's going to take what he says next as Derek blindly shooting him down. He holds eye contact, tries to speak softly. ]

We don't have to do this. You don't have to just... be distracted, all the time. There are other ways to handle being hurt.