[ Derek is successfully swatted away. He takes a seat in the grass, tossing everything he brought into Tate's lap and lazily spreading his legs in the sun. As much as he hates being here, he does appreciate being able to feel some connection to nature - he hasn't had the time to really explore the city, having been kidnapped so soon after his arrival, but it's all... metals and concretes and shades of grey. This might be the freshest air he gets to breathe while he's here.
Ugh. He tilts his head, nods at the stash he's given Tate. The guards have just been waiting for Derek to screw up again, after all his bullshit during the first day. He knows this is going to bite him in the ass, sooner rather than later. ]
Prison rules. Treat that like contraband. If you get caught, I'm not taking the fall for you.
[ He will absolutely take the fall for Tate. He won't have a choice, but even if he did, he'd take the fall for him. ]
[Only Derek has, to some small degree, because Tate's eyes drop quickly to what he's given and there's a hesitation in how he moves his hands through it that's typically reserved for kids on Christmas morning. A lot to go through - and he's already tearing into a chip bag as quietly as one can. He's already eating them, too, when he looks back up at Derek.]
Like there's gonna be anything left to hide. I'm fucking starving.
[ Derek's pensive as he watches Tate eat, tearing through it all so easily. He should have done this sooner. Should have pocketed better food from the cafeteria and smuggled it over to him before he had to ask for it. Poor kid must be famished. ]
Just saying. Find a hole in a wall and stash it all in there. Pull a brick out of a fireplace, or something.
[ He tears his eyes away from Tate just to act as a better sentry, keeping an eye out for anyone that might intervene and take all of Tate's shit away before he gets a chance to really enjoy it all. Derek's stomach aches, but he's not going to ask for any food. ]
Everybody been treating you okay?
[ The guards, the doms, the other subs. There is... a lot of opportunity for Tate to be treated poorly. ]
[Tate's doubtful he'll find anywhere to stash this shit, with how militant and sterile the place seems to be. He considers whether or not to tell Derek to take the leftovers back with him, because at least he can be caught with it on him. But he doesn't like that idea - because now that he has this stuff in his hands, he doesn't want to let it go. So he continues eating.]
Haven't gotten the shit kicked out of me since arrival. Been tempted, though.
[To stir shit, to body check another guard. You know, the usual.]
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[ Derek is successfully swatted away. He takes a seat in the grass, tossing everything he brought into Tate's lap and lazily spreading his legs in the sun. As much as he hates being here, he does appreciate being able to feel some connection to nature - he hasn't had the time to really explore the city, having been kidnapped so soon after his arrival, but it's all... metals and concretes and shades of grey. This might be the freshest air he gets to breathe while he's here.
Ugh. He tilts his head, nods at the stash he's given Tate. The guards have just been waiting for Derek to screw up again, after all his bullshit during the first day. He knows this is going to bite him in the ass, sooner rather than later. ]
Prison rules. Treat that like contraband. If you get caught, I'm not taking the fall for you.
[ He will absolutely take the fall for Tate. He won't have a choice, but even if he did, he'd take the fall for him. ]
no subject
[Only Derek has, to some small degree, because Tate's eyes drop quickly to what he's given and there's a hesitation in how he moves his hands through it that's typically reserved for kids on Christmas morning. A lot to go through - and he's already tearing into a chip bag as quietly as one can. He's already eating them, too, when he looks back up at Derek.]
Like there's gonna be anything left to hide. I'm fucking starving.
no subject
Just saying. Find a hole in a wall and stash it all in there. Pull a brick out of a fireplace, or something.
[ He tears his eyes away from Tate just to act as a better sentry, keeping an eye out for anyone that might intervene and take all of Tate's shit away before he gets a chance to really enjoy it all. Derek's stomach aches, but he's not going to ask for any food. ]
Everybody been treating you okay?
[ The guards, the doms, the other subs. There is... a lot of opportunity for Tate to be treated poorly. ]
no subject
[Tate's doubtful he'll find anywhere to stash this shit, with how militant and sterile the place seems to be. He considers whether or not to tell Derek to take the leftovers back with him, because at least he can be caught with it on him. But he doesn't like that idea - because now that he has this stuff in his hands, he doesn't want to let it go. So he continues eating.]
Haven't gotten the shit kicked out of me since arrival. Been tempted, though.
[To stir shit, to body check another guard. You know, the usual.]
How's your wrist?