Derek's eyes narrow a little in thought as he looks back at Stiles. Either he doesn't also recognize Derek or he does and he's intentionally avoiding saying so. There are a lot of people around, so that makes sense. Derek had only really been comfortable bringing it up in a subtle, passing mention to Buffy when they'd been alone in their room. He can't exactly blame Stiles for feeling equally uncomfortable with making that sort of acknowledgement where anyone could overhear it.

"Right," Derek agrees slowly and he suddenly feels so naked when he catches himself trying to listen for other conversation to see if they're being talked about behind their backs; whether anyone has taken a little too much notice in their awkward discussion. He can't hear a goddamned thing outside Alphas being hit with dodge balls, and the crowd booing or cheering them on.

"I need a drink. Let's go for a walk," he suggests, nodding toward the door. His eyes shift up over the door to note the time. They have a few hours before curfew; he's been playing for a while, but the game itself hasn't lasted super long.