[ When it's Derek's turn to listen, he tries to relate to what she has to say and he can't. His mother always told her children how special they were. He never wanted for attention or affection before the fire. Even after, Laura did her best. He'd shut her out because he'd known it was his fault that everyone else died, but she'd tried.

So he doesn't really know how to react to her saying that she was the "ordinary" one and that she'd felt like she'd been in the way of something more important.

Derek's experienced a lot of loss and a lot of pain, but he at least always knew that his mother and sisters had loved him and that he mattered as much to them as they meant to one another; he was never superfluous just because his eyes were blue instead of gold or he was a boy instead of a girl. He can't imagine not knowing that he belonged.

So instead, he nods and he gives her a sympathetic smile. He wishes it were empathy but he can't empathize with a feeling that's completely foreign. Feeling less than growing up is entirely different than self-isolation as an adult. ]

Well, making friends with people is a good start to normal, right? So I guess you're kind of stuck with me.

[ To that, he offers her a lopsided grin and then finishes off the last of his sandwich, washing it down with a long pull from the straw in his iced tea. ]

How fucked up are we that our 'getting to know you' conversations are about the worst parts of ourselves? We are bleak.

[ And...in spite of the truth behind that comment, Derek huffs a little laugh, rolling his eyes at himself. ]