[ Derek disapproves more of the littering than the theft, and he frowns as the lettuce swirls off into the dark and out of sight. Granted, he's not going to actually say anything - how could he? He looks at Tate and Tate's just... smiling, and it's such a nice sight after everything with Violet. Derek's chest feels warm, and that frown dissolves. They might not be pack officially, but they're close enough to it for Derek to be proud of him.

But god, the joy in that pride pales in comparison to having his jacket back.

He's just - glowing, when Tate hands it back to him, threading his arms through each respective sleeve as he feels at home. He's annoyed about the henley, but not enough to demand it back, and the sweats - well - the sweats are complicated. Derek's... not going to go into why, even if Tate asks, but he hesitates in taking them back long enough for Tate to get impatient and throw them at him. Stiffly, he nods, folds them up, leaving them in the corner to take home later. To wash. ]

Thanks.

[ He stretches his arms in front of him, then up over his head, and just - relaxes. He picks up the beer he'd been grabbing at before Tate interrupted him, then cracks off the top with his teeth. ]

I was actually trying to buy you one of your own a couple days back. A jacket, I mean. But.

[ He shrugs. Takes a sip. Swings his leg in the moonlight, just a little, barely even an inch. ]

Some bitch stole the one I wanted, so I got mad and left.