It's quiet. It's not that high lilt from seconds ago, and it's not that acid biting scorn from before it. Firm, but quiet. That one word that comes from the other side of the car and get his attention. Makes him prompt with a sound like a question. Because even that response doesn't fit with earlier. Not when all the exaggerated movements and angry faces. But then it's just those two words.

Two. Worn down and pulling back away, in a way Steve almost recognizes too well. The way men are after they get back from leave. A thing he doesn't have to question, even when it's never been one of his problems. Even if it's something he doesn't entirely know if he wants to let go without some kind of better idea about it. This secret compartment Danny Williams keeps the good in himself in called Danno.

"Okay," is easy. Shaking his head. It's not related to Doran, or His Dad, or Hesse. He doesn't have to. Even if he wants to.