"Yes, sir," he said softly, still trying to calm himself, but it wasn't working. He swallowed, letting silence settle over him. He knew, of course, that Derek probably wouldn't want to hear him speak. He'd made a point of saying that he didn't care, right? So why bother?
"Between Carrick and the pack at the festival..." Because that was still stuck in his mind, a large part of why he'd sought solace and peace in the woods where he knew he had a chance at being welcome and safe. "I didn't... Based on your actions it was nice to want and feel like I was wanted in return by someone who might not tear me apart the first chance he got, someone who showed more interest in protecting me than breaking me. I didn't mean to assume through misunderstanding." He kept his back to Derek, not wanting to look at him as embarrassment melted into shame. "If it would make you more comfortable, I'll adhere to your original wishes and stay off pack land."
If he still had his wings, they'd be pinned tight against his body protecting him in a way nothing else could. He didn't, but the shifting, tense muscles of his shoulders implied as much anyway. Even as he walked, head down, he managed to keep them like that while he tried to circle wide enough to retrieve his bag and give Derek a wide berth. The wolf could march him off. Mitchell would be there soon.