There’s a shift in the wind and a crackle of something like ozone that tickles Derek’s nose, and when he turns back around Barry’s hair is a mess and the fallen leaves around him have been cleared away. He must have run again, and Derek’s eyes catch on the tiny yellow sparks that cling to Barry’s fingertips. He’s electricity personified, Derek’s second greatest weakness right there in his fingertips, and Derek isn’t even afraid of him.

He’s still staring when Barry’s words filter through, and the surprised hurt shows in his eyes for just a moment before it settles into something like resignation. He showed too much of himself, perhaps. Barry smells angry, so much so the air between them is thick with it, and Derek isn’t sure why.

“Sure,” Derek breathes out, sounding defeated. “Just point me in the direction of the path and I can sniff my way back. It’s fine.”