[ Tate fits as easily into the beach as Derek fits into the woods. He looks at home in the water, he looks calmed by the shells, and while there's that same flare up of-- of being alike, but being different, there's also something reassuring about seeing Tate so calm somewhere. Maybe they should move their training out here. Could do wonders. ]

You can come by whenever you want. Pretty sure Stiles and I are the only people who actually know there's a beach out here, so. You won't have to worry about other people stopping by.

[ Derek walks backwards a few inches, getting to drier sand and dropping down, propped up on his hands and manspreading a little. He reaches into the bag he brought with him, pulls out the pretzels Tate asked for, shaking the bag a little to indicate what he got. ]

Just - keep it to yourself. I don't want anyone else out here.