While he doesn't necessarily expect his brother to look up at him, it still stings a little when he doesn't. It doesn't hurt Derek's feelings so much as he hates knowing that Diego's suffering so much that he can't even be bothered to visually acknowledge Derek's arrival. His expression shifts, brow creasing in the center with empathy even as he huffs a soft, humorless laugh and nods when Diego finally does look.
"Least I can do," he replies simply, taking another drink. If he's going to get trashed, he shouldn't have to drink alone and Derek's the ideal drinking partner because he doubles as a designated driver. No matter how much he drinks, it never seems to touch him. Only that one time when he'd been sixteen and he had a few one night, he'd been down for the count, drunk as a skunk. He still doesn't know why it was just that one night and only for a few hours. It doesn't really matter. He remembers that he'd felt it coming on and if he starts to feel it today, he'll nurse the one he's got until Diego's done. "You'd go broke paying for mine," he points out with a smile that falls a little short of his eyes.
It sucks not being able to change anything or make Diego feel better. He knows how hard Diego worked, but some part of him must have known. Derek had. Derek had always known that Diego wouldn't make it as a cop; he hates bowing to other people. Hates taking orders. Derek can't blame him. He'd never tried to stop his brother or give him any reasons not to try, though, because hey...Derek could've been wrong.
He wishes he had been.
For a long moment, Derek's quiet, then, drinking in solidarity and silence. Diego doesn't want to talk and Derek can't think of anything to say that isn't a question, so he just doesn't say anything at all. When the pause in conversation has drawn out for several minutes, he knocks back the rest of his beer and motions for the bartender to serve them each another.
Finally, when the new drinks are placed in front of them, Derek looks over at his brother again. "You could help me get my business off the ground," he offers. "Flipping houses. You'll love the demo step," he adds. The smile still doesn't reach his sympathetic eyes. "Blowing out walls is cathartic."
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"Least I can do," he replies simply, taking another drink. If he's going to get trashed, he shouldn't have to drink alone and Derek's the ideal drinking partner because he doubles as a designated driver. No matter how much he drinks, it never seems to touch him. Only that one time when he'd been sixteen and he had a few one night, he'd been down for the count, drunk as a skunk. He still doesn't know why it was just that one night and only for a few hours. It doesn't really matter. He remembers that he'd felt it coming on and if he starts to feel it today, he'll nurse the one he's got until Diego's done. "You'd go broke paying for mine," he points out with a smile that falls a little short of his eyes.
It sucks not being able to change anything or make Diego feel better. He knows how hard Diego worked, but some part of him must have known. Derek had. Derek had always known that Diego wouldn't make it as a cop; he hates bowing to other people. Hates taking orders. Derek can't blame him. He'd never tried to stop his brother or give him any reasons not to try, though, because hey...Derek could've been wrong.
He wishes he had been.
For a long moment, Derek's quiet, then, drinking in solidarity and silence. Diego doesn't want to talk and Derek can't think of anything to say that isn't a question, so he just doesn't say anything at all. When the pause in conversation has drawn out for several minutes, he knocks back the rest of his beer and motions for the bartender to serve them each another.
Finally, when the new drinks are placed in front of them, Derek looks over at his brother again. "You could help me get my business off the ground," he offers. "Flipping houses. You'll love the demo step," he adds. The smile still doesn't reach his sympathetic eyes. "Blowing out walls is cathartic."