"I appreciate the sentiment behind the thought," he says, but a weak smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "But you're right. It's empty words more often than not."

When she nods, Derek lowers himself to sit on the bed beside her, leaving a little bit of space between them. He has to remind himself that it doesn't really matter that he can't stop thinking about the dancing and the kiss, because it wasn't really him and it wasn't really her. She's still technically a stranger to him and he is absolutely one to her.

Taking a deep breath, Derek looks over at her when she asks whether he has nightmares. "When I sleep?" he asks, because he doesn't very often anymore. "Not here. Not so much here, because the gas puts me to sleep when I sleep in this place, but before here or if I fall asleep before the gas, I do. It's hard not to after you've seen some of the shit that I've seen." Like the bottom half of his sister. And then the top half. Among far too many other things. "...I'm guessing you too, huh?"