Really, Derek should notice her tears immediately - the salt in the air, the sound, soft as it is. Instead, he's so fixated on the road, determined to evade the recesses of memory, that at first the shift in her doesn't click. It's only when she starts typing at her phone that he glances at her again, and then the look he gives her is almost fraught, albeit short-lived - though it's followed with a swift double take, because at first he doesn't believe what he saw. He doesn't want to.
Derek will accept, readily, that he's possibly the worst person to be stuck with right now. His fingers flex like he means to touch her, but he doesn't. He glances at her again, perhaps to verify that she's still crying. She is. And he's still the worst person to deal with it.
"Don't." He almost winces; it sounds sharp even to his own ears. "Apologize. Don't apologize." Oh my god, he's useless. Pursing his lips and scowling at the road, he hopes for the right thing to say to present itself. It doesn't. Derek struggles.
"You're not doing anything wrong, Abigail," he tries, half-under his breath. Were they anywhere else, he'd probably have fallen silent, but their current proximity spurs him to make an attempt.
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Derek will accept, readily, that he's possibly the worst person to be stuck with right now. His fingers flex like he means to touch her, but he doesn't. He glances at her again, perhaps to verify that she's still crying. She is. And he's still the worst person to deal with it.
"Don't." He almost winces; it sounds sharp even to his own ears. "Apologize. Don't apologize." Oh my god, he's useless. Pursing his lips and scowling at the road, he hopes for the right thing to say to present itself. It doesn't. Derek struggles.
"You're not doing anything wrong, Abigail," he tries, half-under his breath. Were they anywhere else, he'd probably have fallen silent, but their current proximity spurs him to make an attempt.