[ It's hard for Derek to give an honest response to that - like he said before, the world can be cruel. It chews people up, breaks their bones, drinks their blood, spits out the mess that's left behind. If things don't work out for Tate - maybe he's a victim to that. Like Cora, like Paige. Like so many people who deserved better than what life - what Derek - gave them.

Tate cries, and Derek isn't put off by it at all. He makes eye contact, expression a mix of... steady neutrality, with concern bleeding in around the edges. He's trying to be stone, but that's never been who he is. ]

I think... it's hard... because you're spiralling. You're still new here, relatively speaking - you haven't had time to adjust, and you've been alone. Without someone to take care of you, without a pack, it's just been - you. Suffering. That's... why I want to be someone you can lean on. I want to make things work out for you.

[ He rubs his eye with the heel of his palm. He hopes he sounds... reassuring. Kind. He's never been good at that, he thinks, but Tate's the idiot who called him kind in the first place, so. Maybe it's coming across okay. ]

Life'd probably be easier if you didn't get white boy wasted quite so hard, though.