It's rolling around in his chest as Danny's words come as a demand for some kind of understanding. Confused annoyance coating the edges, when he's actually talking to Steve about Steve now. It all spreads down along the inside of his skin. Warm and caustic. Warmer and more caustic that the late evening air that's clinging to his shirt, the back of his neck and forearms, as the Hawaii finds him again, outside. More than that.

But he's not stopping for that, or this, yet. Making for the camaro in very quick, efficient strides as he digs in his pocket for the keys, that come out with a quiet jangle in the all but empty parking lot. Listening to the voices from the swinging door go from a quite rabble, with certain close by one still clear, to a hum that's getting more and more distantly just a group of people.

When he can feel the parts of him tensing in some insane mounting excitement for getting away, for being away. The way it does when adrenaline is spiking through him, about to do something ludicrous, dangerous, amazing. Like jump out of a plane forty thousand feet and watch the world rush at him as he slices straight through the air. Thrums inside his veins, skipping up his heart.

But not quite yet. Which is why he doesn't favor Danny with anything more than a truly amused. "Get in the car, Danny."

Because he is. Amusing. Hilarious. He's going to start waving his hands and loudly defend acting like an ass for an hour. But if Steve has any say at this point, Danny's going to do it outside of this parking lot and away from these people. Where he can shove it all into a heavy, fast, roiling boil. Where Steve can have all of it finally.

All of it. Not just the parts the escapes Danny's mouth and all of his ability to hold his tongue. All of it.