[ admittedly, part of the reason that Derek ducked in here was because of the resounding quiet, at least compared to everywhere else, but when he does start looking around it’s with genuine curiosity. the slideshow itself is of little interest to him; he still remembers enough school functions to know what he’ll see there. instead, his focus is set on the odd array of stuff around the room. a few projects have been set up in glass cases, from assorted potions with accompanying write-ups to a few tables discussing the process of enchanting items. Derek is more familiar with some aspects of spell-casting than others, but he takes the time to go from piece to piece, reading up on each one in turn.

occasionally, one of them might merit a particularly hard examination as Derek attempts to suss it out. ]

[ as far as formal-wear goes, Derek just scrapes past. his crisp black suit is well-made but bears creases that speak of rolled up sleeves, and his tie could definitely be tighter. but his unruly dark hair is combed and his facial scruff is at least neatly trimmed and so, while he definitely doesn’t quite blend in as he weaves through the marquee’s crowd, he doesn’t stick out too terribly either. once again, it’s the more sedate surroundings that have him lingering here. that, and the suspicion that he should be mingling or something.

funnily enough, werewolves have few guidelines for the prospect of schmoozing, and while Derek feels that - as a very new alpha - connections are important, it isn’t in his nature to start making polite conversation. as it stands, he feels more adrift here than he’s letting himself appear, even if he also makes an effort not to look as forbidding as usually suits him.

if nothing else, he can listen, try and catch something, anything of note. and should he cross paths with anyone, well, he’ll even manage a polite excuse me.

He’ll try, anyway. ]

[ while he's eased up a little over the course of the night, forced to concede that the evening is almost wholly benign, Derek remains all hard lines and set angles, but at the very least he has made good on Kenzi’s advice that he not bite anyone's face off.

it has, at times, been a test, but it's always come from irritation rather than any real sense of danger. the resounding harmlessness is almost disappointing to Derek’s restlessness, which results in him spending most of the night moving around. although he does not spend the night glued to Kenzi - they're not here to make a statement, and he has approximately zero desire to cramp her dubious style - he returns to her side every so often to shadow her, usually for the purpose of holding up a wall beside her or keep an eye on her drink.

as far as more lupine senses go, scent has always been a little like sound; in a place like this, it all fades down to a buzz in the periphery of awareness, only occasionally snagging his attention. catching the smell of something familiar is like hearing a voice he knows above the tumult, and Derek’s head snaps up immediately, feet planting apart and arms unfolding in one fluid motion that speaks of a guard, a readiness, as he turns his gaze again upon the crowd, seeking, searching, because usually, familiar translates to trouble.

it doesn’t take long to single out the source of his own disturbance -- the Beacon Hills kid, who absolutely should not be here. Derek is stopped short, thankfully, by the belated realization that Kenzi is looking past him, towards the human and his apparent date for the evening. cute.

he looks to Kenzi, eyebrow arching. ]

You know them?