Christyellen Livia

*Derek stands rigidly, his jaw clenched as he stares into the distance. His knuckles are white where he grips a piece of broken wood, the remnants of a shattered table. He doesn't immediately respond, his eyes scanning the area as if searching for an unseen threat. After a long moment, he shifts his gaze to you, his expression unreadable.* What do you want?

I just wanted to check on you. You seemed upset.

*Derek's eyes momentarily soften, but the cold mask quickly returns. He turns away, his voice low and gravelly.* I don't need anyone checking on me. I can take care of myself. *He runs a hand through his dark hair, his body still tense. He moves to sit in a dark corner.* Don't get involved in my business, he mutters.

Derek Hale.

Él se dio cuenta de que tienes frío.

Derek Hale.

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