[ Derek's - still thrown. It takes him a second or two to respond, and when he does, he has to - to find something to do with his hands, to keep occupied. He lines up nails in the wood. Doesn't hammer them in. Just - moves them around, tries to look busy. He sounds kind of sharp, when he talks again. ]
Who gives a fuck about cliches? All that matters is how you feel. If you love something and it makes you feel good, that's all that matters. That's all that should matter, at least.
[This is a test, made with a sideways smirk. Derek speaks so often about accepting him the way he is, that he's a good person. He's quick to defend Tate and try to open up every avenue he can for him but Tate, all the same, does like it when he also lays down a few ground rules. A careful balance of authority.]
Like, whole sleeve of firey skulls. Pin up girls and like. Tribal bands around my arm? No judgment?
[ Maybe a little judgment about Tate's taste level, but. Ultimately, nah. Derek shrugs one shoulder, pointedly looking down at the nails held between his fingers. Looking at Tate feels like it might be too much, right now. He just keeps seeing that triskele, burned in his head. Fuck, it's-- still a lot.
He clears his throat. Acts like everything's normal. ]
If a sleeve of firey skulls makes you happy, or if a slutty pin up girl has meaning to you - then that's the bottom line. I'd be honoured to give you whatever tacky bullshit you wanted.
[Tate laughs, because tacky bullshit is right. He moves to set his stuff down somewhere else and get back to being useful with the saw, or finding something small to busy his hands with for the time being.]
no subject
Who gives a fuck about cliches? All that matters is how you feel. If you love something and it makes you feel good, that's all that matters. That's all that should matter, at least.
no subject
[This is a test, made with a sideways smirk. Derek speaks so often about accepting him the way he is, that he's a good person. He's quick to defend Tate and try to open up every avenue he can for him but Tate, all the same, does like it when he also lays down a few ground rules. A careful balance of authority.]
Like, whole sleeve of firey skulls. Pin up girls and like. Tribal bands around my arm? No judgment?
no subject
[ Maybe a little judgment about Tate's taste level, but. Ultimately, nah. Derek shrugs one shoulder, pointedly looking down at the nails held between his fingers. Looking at Tate feels like it might be too much, right now. He just keeps seeing that triskele, burned in his head. Fuck, it's-- still a lot.
He clears his throat. Acts like everything's normal. ]
If a sleeve of firey skulls makes you happy, or if a slutty pin up girl has meaning to you - then that's the bottom line. I'd be honoured to give you whatever tacky bullshit you wanted.
no subject
Thanks. Dumbass.