The video feed hadn't bothered Derek. He hadn't even been surprised to realize that there was almost a mild disappointment that Altair hadn't successfully managed to assassinate Quintus. He'd wonder how Quintus can preach about not tolerating any breath of sedition when he'd supported a rebel offworlder over two loyal Capitol soldiers, but that doesn't really surprise him, either. The Capitol is nothing if not hypocrisy in its finest.

Derek'd watched it impassively and clicked it off. It's another reminder of what might await him if he decides to do something like the way he and Phi had helped the night of the Valentine's dance, he guesses, but he'd already known that, and he doesn't care. It wouldn't matter to him at all, except for what it would do to Chuck.

Still, he's unsettled in a way he can't really explain, and when it's done he fiddles with some of the projects in their room before giving up and heading out to go train.

But he stops when he sees Kurloz bent over the sink, picks up the smell of blood and vomit, and immediately realizes what happened - even if he stumbles over the why and doesn't connect it to the broadcast. Derek'd never really thought about the complications of being sick with the stitches, but he definitely is now.

He pads over next to Kurloz, reaching out to put a hand on his back and rubbing gently in circles, the way he remembers Chuck's mom doing for him when he was small and not feeling well.

"You sick?"