It looks like he remembers. Or more, he knows, it looks like some faded whisp of what he remembers tossed together in a blender with dozens of other things just like it he's seen in dozens of other places he'll never talk about and never forget. Poverty and squalor, and people choosing the life they lead and the places they end. Not always true in third world countries, where these houses could be palaces in comparison to what they had, but it was here. It was with people like Doran.
He's so ready to go, before the mustang is even drawing to a slow. The temptation running like an electric pulse under his skin, high pitched and faster the closer they get. When he's sliding the file between the center console and his chair. Pushing everything else out. Everything. Danno, and HPD, and the funeral. Clear view of the target. Of the man he needs and what he needs to get from him. It's all he's really thinking when that niggling voice invades again.
And there's that rising tone again, even for short, sharp words asking for attention. Making Steve lean back in. In case Danny has more he wants to share on Doran. Something he had mentioned earlier when he was busy being made of hurt feelings over his case and his employment location. And even though Steve can note that he's choosing soft, calmer points in that explanation, the holding him up is only making Steve want to get there even faster.
Especially for something that pointless. Making Steve haul off easy words, "You are the backup."
Which is as honest, as it is entirely trivial a point. It's been a good while since he's needed or considered back-up in a open and shut situation that is this low key, and it's almost hilarious that Danny thinks he's needs anyone to back him up at all for this kind of thing. He ate this kind of thing for breakfast on the way to real danger. At the most, what? The guy has a small posse of armed thugs? Still something Steve barely needed more than one or two other SEALs for.
But those options weren't available here. Only Danny was. So Steve would manage to carry it all. Because he had to. Because the mission needed it, and he didn't blink or balk at parameters. They just told him what to expect and what to factor in. He didn't wait. Slamming the car door, to enunciate his point, and the one where Danny needed to get out already. Then, headed through the rough made houses, checking door numbers, headed toward the right one. Straight and fast.
no subject
He's so ready to go, before the mustang is even drawing to a slow. The temptation running like an electric pulse under his skin, high pitched and faster the closer they get. When he's sliding the file between the center console and his chair. Pushing everything else out. Everything. Danno, and HPD, and the funeral. Clear view of the target. Of the man he needs and what he needs to get from him. It's all he's really thinking when that niggling voice invades again.
And there's that rising tone again, even for short, sharp words asking for attention. Making Steve lean back in. In case Danny has more he wants to share on Doran. Something he had mentioned earlier when he was busy being made of hurt feelings over his case and his employment location. And even though Steve can note that he's choosing soft, calmer points in that explanation, the holding him up is only making Steve want to get there even faster.
Especially for something that pointless. Making Steve haul off easy words, "You are the backup."
Which is as honest, as it is entirely trivial a point. It's been a good while since he's needed or considered back-up in a open and shut situation that is this low key, and it's almost hilarious that Danny thinks he's needs anyone to back him up at all for this kind of thing. He ate this kind of thing for breakfast on the way to real danger. At the most, what? The guy has a small posse of armed thugs? Still something Steve barely needed more than one or two other SEALs for.
But those options weren't available here. Only Danny was. So Steve would manage to carry it all. Because he had to. Because the mission needed it, and he didn't blink or balk at parameters. They just told him what to expect and what to factor in. He didn't wait. Slamming the car door, to enunciate his point, and the one where Danny needed to get out already. Then, headed through the rough made houses, checking door numbers, headed toward the right one. Straight and fast.