Barry's breath catches as Derek's fingers bear down, holding him in place. They tighten, almost imperceptibly to anyone but a speedster who feels every smallest breath of wind, and then Barry's feet are off the ground. He laughs, only to find his feet meeting the ground once more, and he can't help but linger close.

"If that was some kind of audition, I liked you the moment I saw you in the square," he says. Derek has taken a step back, and though they've only sat together for moments, Barry misses his presence. He reaches forward, fingertips landing on Derek's hip. "So werewolves are strong," he says. "I don't trust the legends, what else is true?"