"Just you," is all Barry manages in answer, too disoriented by the sudden change in elevation to do more than drift in Derek's arms. He begins to perk up, however, when the first breath of fresh air he's breathed in days gusts over his cheeks.

Gaze focusing, he reaches for the bar Derek has with trembling fingers, managing to get it to his mouth for a bite he wishes were larger. If he had the strength for it, Barry would make a Julie of the Wolves crack about the very specific parameters he has for Derek feeding him, but it's all he can do to chew. "Wait," he says after that first swallow, attempting to sit straighter. "Are all the others out? There were kids, Derek."