[ Derek glances at the tattoo on Jughead's wrist, a swell of something close to pride in his chest. Again, he doesn't know shit about this kid, not really, but dart after dart is landing right on target. Kind of funny, holds his ground, rebellious, questions authority, knows what it's like to be out in the cold. Kid's rad. Derek's glad he didn't leave. ]

Mm. [ While recently Derek has found he prefers the safety of abandoned buildings and dusty subway tunnels to the security offered by an apartment that might leave a paper trail, he's also both an adult and a wild dog who essentially grew up in the fucking woods. A kid like Jughead deserves a roof over his head. ]

I've got a couch. [ He's wary as he says it, watching Jughead like a deer unwilling to be handfed. ] So. If you ever lose this place, you don't have to worry about not having a place to sleep. You or Tate.

If that's... yeah. Something that you'd... need. Care about. Whatever. [ Something. Whatever. Derek scratches his neck, huffs air through his teeth. Hoo boy. ]