[ Once Derek gets a little more over himself, he'll probably feel bad for souring Tate's mood, but. That's not happening yet. He doesn't answer Tate's question, but he senses the imminent eye roll anyway, mildly annoyed by it, and when Tate leads him out to the bar, he follows along. Quietly biting back any comments about how Tate's only seventeen, knowing full well that the city doesn't give a shit about things like that.
He takes a few steps ahead of Tate just so he can guide them to the corner of the bar, where it's darker and more narrow and there's less of a chance people will try to come over and talk to them. After getting their drinks, he grabs a table rather than heading up to the bar itself, sliding into the most shaded seat and sighing through his nose once he settles. Tate joins him, and Derek doesn't really want to lead conversation, but he taps his fingernails against the glass beer bottle he has in his hands, making an attempt at it anyway. ]
no subject
He takes a few steps ahead of Tate just so he can guide them to the corner of the bar, where it's darker and more narrow and there's less of a chance people will try to come over and talk to them. After getting their drinks, he grabs a table rather than heading up to the bar itself, sliding into the most shaded seat and sighing through his nose once he settles. Tate joins him, and Derek doesn't really want to lead conversation, but he taps his fingernails against the glass beer bottle he has in his hands, making an attempt at it anyway. ]
You said you needed help.