"Great," he sighs. On the contrary, Derek's actually the type of person who prefers brutal honesty. Sugarcoating doesn't do him any favors. As for the drugging, while he hasn't experienced it — yet — he can't imagine it would be a good time. Especially since he hasn't got his werewolf metabolism to override whatever they might feel inclined to put into his system.

Shrugging, Derek squints a little in thought before responding. "I'm the king of screwing up. You just have to learn to screw up quietly, is all," he replies. Which actually gives him an idea.

If someone told him, ever, that he'd feel the urge to find a way to partner up with someone who looked like Jackson Whittemore, he'd never have believed them. "Actually...maybe we can scratch each other's backs a little with that," he thinks aloud.

Derek knows how to fight, but without his werewolf abilities, he's not very good at it. Honestly, even with them, he isn't very good at it, he can just take a hell of a licking and keep on ticking. "You're a better fighter than I am. I'm better at screwing up under the radar, from the sounds of it, than you are. Maybe we can learn a thing or two from one another and both benefit from it. If you're interested. If you're not, then oh well, but I'm just throwing that out there."