Funny, somehow Derek secretly wasn't sure he believed that leaving Beacon Hills would make any difference at all. At first, it kind of hadn't. Bad luck seems to follow him everywhere he goes and when he tries to escape, it almost seems to get worse; the outward ripple grows. Obviously, keeping his baby sister safe is and always will be his first priority, so when he headed to South America to catch up with her and the hunters seemed to follow, it was sort of a no-brainer for him to take the offer for Cadelle in exchange for his sister's safety. She seems to do better when she's not with him, anyway, so as difficult as it had been to finally let go, he's made his choice.

Honestly, he'd thought this would be a lot easier than it is, but the friendliness of the people greeting and helping to enroll the volunteers is unnerving in a way he can't quite put his finger on. Maybe he's just been living in Beacon Hills too long. That's probably it. He's so distracted by that that when he gets to his door and it won't open, his first reflexive thought is that he's made the mistake. But, no...according to the assignment — Gamma building, first floor, west unit — this is supposed to be his new home.

So why the hell won't the door open?

After several unsuccessful tries, Derek growls with frustration, kicking the door. "Open, dammit!" he grunts as he tries again. Honestly, he could probably just rip the damn thing off its hinges, but that would make a scene, so he'd really rather not. "Come on..."

Until he can get some of his own equipment in his own place, if Derek wants to continue his workout regimen, it means he's going to have to hit the local gym. There are worse places to have to work out, he supposes, than this. It's nice in here. ...busy and thick with the scents of sweat and determination — so thick that it takes a few minutes for him to adjust to keep from practically choking on it — but nice.

Derek finds an open bench press and, clearing his throat and looking furtively around to make sure he's not necessarily being watched as he does so, he starts to load several hundred pounds worth of weights onto the bar.

He's used to having to lift without a spotter, so he doesn't really look around for anyone before he settles onto the bench and prepares himself mentally to get started. It doesn't occur to him that some bystander might offer anyway because they're not used to seeing someone lift this much without a spotter.

Feel free to hit me up on plurk @ mistojen for plotting. Or you can write a starter here or on Derek's OkCuddle.