[ okay. okay, this is fine. tate starts moving, disoriented but... present, for the most part. derek lags behind for a second or two, just to watch him go, and there's that same sickly shot of guilt coiling down the back of his spine that he can't quite abate. he knows he's doing the right thing, he knows he's trying to help - but that doesn't make his lies any less of a lie. ]
Stop worrying so much.
[ he paces after tate, manages his speed so they're shoulder to shoulder. he keeps his hands in his pockets until they get to the elevator, and he heads inside, the heavy metal doors shutting solemnly behind them. derek shrugs off his jacket once they're inside and alone, a draft coming through from somewhere above them and making his skin prickle from the coolness of the air, and he makes a motion like he's going to hand the jacket to tate so he can put it on himself, but. then he thinks better of it. there's no way tate's that coordinated right now.
so he heads behind him, slips the jacket over tate's shoulders, the inner lining warming and comforting in a way you might not expect. he casts a cursory glance at tate's arm, notices the welts and the red and the old scars. he doesn't say anything, only... steps away, heads back to the elevator's control panel. they're moving so slowly. ]
no subject
Stop worrying so much.
[ he paces after tate, manages his speed so they're shoulder to shoulder. he keeps his hands in his pockets until they get to the elevator, and he heads inside, the heavy metal doors shutting solemnly behind them. derek shrugs off his jacket once they're inside and alone, a draft coming through from somewhere above them and making his skin prickle from the coolness of the air, and he makes a motion like he's going to hand the jacket to tate so he can put it on himself, but. then he thinks better of it. there's no way tate's that coordinated right now.
so he heads behind him, slips the jacket over tate's shoulders, the inner lining warming and comforting in a way you might not expect. he casts a cursory glance at tate's arm, notices the welts and the red and the old scars. he doesn't say anything, only... steps away, heads back to the elevator's control panel. they're moving so slowly. ]
Better?