The force of Sookie's sobs only begins to subside as she feels Derek take her into his arms. It might be trite, it might be far too predictable, but there's something in mix of a gentle hand and a warm touch that soothes the tumult in her chest. It leaves behind only the deep ache of grief, and she buries herself in it — physically keeps her face hidden in Derek's. She can still hear the lingering thoughts of the last members of the staff who clear out, some regretful, others dying of curiosity.

She doesn't bother looking up to meet their gazes.

Hearing a couple of bottles clink together, Sookie finally blinks, her eyes already feeling swollen and overly warm. Rubbing at them with the back of her hand, Sookie sits up but a little, not yet extricating herself from Derek's arms. Instead, she glances over at the bottles and sniffles.

"I should be the one pouring that out for you, not the other way around," she says with the barest of exhales, a joke that doesn't quite make it all the way to a laugh. "What a funny picture we must make. A grown woman crying all over her good friend. I'm getting my snot all over your shirt."

With the smallest of smiles on her lips, Sookie raises a hand to rake her fingers briefly through his hair. "I'll get you a new one."