Steve's mouth just curves more, because that question is wry, a little suspicious, but it is the smallest step sideways and down from sullen and demanding. Like Danny's been sidetracked from wherever his original point came from in there by Steve's own question. Which just makes him feel like he's won something. Even if it is infinitesimal and might come right back in another minute.

When it's easier to simple let it roll, in the same voice and cadence as the first, "Well, I'm, obviously, not now."

He just got told as much, is loudly implied. And he knows, he's being a goof. But there's something to see Danny lighten for a second. He knows that so much of this can't get lighter. That as soon as they turn and look at it in direction, in this house, in their worlds, even with each other, it'll just be too sharp, heavy and exacting. But for this moment, this one, he's dragging it one a few seconds longer.

It'll all still be there. Like it is every morning when they wake up again. When it's all still there, and, miraculously, so is this. So often shifted to one side for the bigger, heavier things, until it just can't stay in the corner or in its few hours. When moments like tonight make this stand out even more. What it is. What it isn't. What are they doing. Where is it going. When is it ending.