Laughing, Derek shakes his head. "I mean, you could've taken the heels off, snuck out, and then put them back on?"
Try sneaking out when your parents have werewolf hearing, he has the urge to challenge, but keeps to himself because he does not love the idea of her finding out about the werewolf, yet. Things are going really well right now and the last thing he wants is to scare her away because he's, quite literally, a monster. He just doesn't happen to do monstrous things. Most people don't bother to get to know him well enough to learn that part, though.
Derek's older sister waited tables in two shitty diners in Brooklyn when they were still teenagers, trying to support them both financially when they'd gone on the run from the Argents after the fire. They'd had to leave too abruptly to stop at the vault to take some of Peter's cash — everyone else in the family was smart enough to invest or keep their money in bonds — and they'd probably have been followed there, anyway, and picked off as well. They'd gone to Brooklyn with barely a penny to their names and had wiped out their savings accounts renting out their crappy, cockroach infested loft. That first year had been rough before the inheritance and insurance payouts had started to roll into Laura's bank account. He tips that way because he knows first hand that these types of jobs tend to depend on tips. The pay isn't great and the hours are just as bad or worse, most of the time. Tips put food in kids' mouths. Derek's mouth was one of them. It's the least he can do when he has the money to spare.
"I'm completely okay with a drive so long as you think I'll be able to impress my date with this bar-b-que," he says playfully. "You sound pretty confident. You wouldn't lead me astray now, would you?" He grins a little and leads her out to his car — well, his car now. The Camaro was Laura's — unlocking the doors and pulling the passenger one open for her.
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Try sneaking out when your parents have werewolf hearing, he has the urge to challenge, but keeps to himself because he does not love the idea of her finding out about the werewolf, yet. Things are going really well right now and the last thing he wants is to scare her away because he's, quite literally, a monster. He just doesn't happen to do monstrous things. Most people don't bother to get to know him well enough to learn that part, though.
Derek's older sister waited tables in two shitty diners in Brooklyn when they were still teenagers, trying to support them both financially when they'd gone on the run from the Argents after the fire. They'd had to leave too abruptly to stop at the vault to take some of Peter's cash — everyone else in the family was smart enough to invest or keep their money in bonds — and they'd probably have been followed there, anyway, and picked off as well. They'd gone to Brooklyn with barely a penny to their names and had wiped out their savings accounts renting out their crappy, cockroach infested loft. That first year had been rough before the inheritance and insurance payouts had started to roll into Laura's bank account. He tips that way because he knows first hand that these types of jobs tend to depend on tips. The pay isn't great and the hours are just as bad or worse, most of the time. Tips put food in kids' mouths. Derek's mouth was one of them. It's the least he can do when he has the money to spare.
"I'm completely okay with a drive so long as you think I'll be able to impress my date with this bar-b-que," he says playfully. "You sound pretty confident. You wouldn't lead me astray now, would you?" He grins a little and leads her out to his car — well, his car now. The Camaro was Laura's — unlocking the doors and pulling the passenger one open for her.