It made him feel vaguely uneasy to return to the memory of that evening in the kitchen – like his stomach was about to drop out from underneath him – but he had fully expected his master to confront him about his behavior the next morning. Instead, his master merely noted what he now suspected to have been the residue of cold sweat on his skin and needled him with concerns. It was an embarrassing faux pas on his part to be so careless with respect to their keen sense of smell, but not quite as humiliating as it was to stumble away from Derek in a blind panic at the thought of being so readily abandoned. It was foolish of him to think he operated on anything other than borrowed time in the first place.
He knew better. He did. So, why then did the werewolf not seize upon the opportunity to expose his weakness? That he didn't know – and that bothered him, more than anything. “Why did you not inform my master of my misbehavior that night...?”