He gestures, open-palmed, to the table, sarcasm dripping off his words like honey gone bad and bitter. "I didn't even realize there was an option that I might be able to take it. Knock yourself out."
Of course Steve breaks, because Steve is a control freak who needs to leech every possible advantage out of whatever hands dealt to him -- no matter that Danny usually feels like he's playing Go Fish while Steve is thinking out strategies for Texas Hold 'Em.
Whatever. Steve can break if he wants; Danny will just stand here, hand wrapped around his own cue, and watch, even though he thinks, as Steve bends to focus on the perfectly aligned triangle, that might be a mistake.
It's certainly distracting. Watching as Steve's shirt snugs tight against his back and shoulders. Catching his eye as he glances up, with the kind of come on, dare me blase blue that makes Danny's stomach drop and knot, painful. It's unfair, when just a look is enough to set Danny on fire, like he'd just dumped a gallon of gasoline on his head and Steve was kind enough to toss a lit match his way.
Hell, he's almost grateful when Steve sinks the six ball in a corner pocket, because at least he'll have a second to try and hoist his attention back to the game. "Nice. Solids."
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He gestures, open-palmed, to the table, sarcasm dripping off his words like honey gone bad and bitter. "I didn't even realize there was an option that I might be able to take it. Knock yourself out."
Of course Steve breaks, because Steve is a control freak who needs to leech every possible advantage out of whatever hands dealt to him -- no matter that Danny usually feels like he's playing Go Fish while Steve is thinking out strategies for Texas Hold 'Em.
Whatever. Steve can break if he wants; Danny will just stand here, hand wrapped around his own cue, and watch, even though he thinks, as Steve bends to focus on the perfectly aligned triangle, that might be a mistake.
It's certainly distracting. Watching as Steve's shirt snugs tight against his back and shoulders. Catching his eye as he glances up, with the kind of come on, dare me blase blue that makes Danny's stomach drop and knot, painful. It's unfair, when just a look is enough to set Danny on fire, like he'd just dumped a gallon of gasoline on his head and Steve was kind enough to toss a lit match his way.
Hell, he's almost grateful when Steve sinks the six ball in a corner pocket, because at least he'll have a second to try and hoist his attention back to the game. "Nice. Solids."