It takes an effort not to stiffen when he feels her close the space he's kept between them to rest her head on his shoulder. It isn't anything personal; it isn't that he has a problem with Katniss doing it so much as he's uncomfortable with the idea of anyone doing it. Derek is already missing a piece of himself. He doesn't need to lose more after getting attached to someone who will inevitably leave him. Or hurt him. Or worse, hurt other people; people he cares about even if he pretends he doesn't, sometimes.

Everything about this somehow manages to strike a perfect balance between comforting and terrifying; anxiety-inducing and relaxing. How it manages to do so, Derek doesn't know and in retrospect, he still won't be able to figure it out, because unless explicitly told, he's not going to make the connection between the coffee and the way he's feeling right now.

Derek keeps moving, but he's looking around. He's looking to see if they're being watched or whether they're going to get in trouble for not working, because that's about the last thing either of them needs right now, is to get hauled off for something as trivial as taking a little break for mental health. "We have to stop sometime...we still have to work," he points out gently and he's careful to keep his tone apologetic because he sort of genuinely doesn't want to be the bad guy here. As scary as the prospect of forming an attachment to a new person is, this does, admittedly, feel kind of nice.