Steve's gun goes up, fast, the next second -- but not at Doran, at the window that just blew.
At Danny framed in the glass, breathless and gun-high, and for a second, Steve's only reaction clenching in his gut, and exploding outward like a mortar round with no patience, is the want to squeeze his trigger finger. Sharp, heavy, too bleak to even be anger, it's a dangerously still kind of black and red edged rage, because he doesn't need to look back to know Doran just went down for the count.
His one lead to Victor. And he's in a puddle of his own blood on a dirt road. Because of that haole detective.
Because of that man his father is another step closer to just being another name on Victor's bloody fucking endless list.
It's a good long pause of looking away, jaw and fingers on the gun, clenched before he looks back up. When it might look to anyone around him like shock, or relief, but all it is flooding through him is useless livid realization he is now back to square fucking one on Victor Hesse's location and plan. Without a lead. Unless he can pull one out of the shrapnel of that house, and it's all because he picked that guy who got trigger happy if a gun so much as moved.
It's to Danny's benefit that a wave sirens and then squad cars come speeding into the place just then, and a wave of cops with them, that Steve sure as hell doesn't want to be looking at or dealing with anymore than he wants to have to step a few feet toward his partner now. So he doesn't, go back toward Danny, he goes forward toward the cars. To find the highest ranking person involved there, so he can hand off whatever the hell he needs, and get back to Doran's place without them having anyone touch it first.
Once he's done that, he'll find a way to shove it all back down, in. Do the job, every avenue, no feelings involved.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2014-01-18 11:41 pm (UTC)At Danny framed in the glass, breathless and gun-high, and for a second, Steve's only reaction clenching in his gut, and exploding outward like a mortar round with no patience, is the want to squeeze his trigger finger. Sharp, heavy, too bleak to even be anger, it's a dangerously still kind of black and red edged rage, because he doesn't need to look back to know Doran just went down for the count.
His one lead to Victor. And he's in a puddle of his own blood on a dirt road. Because of that haole detective.
Because of that man his father is another step closer to just being another name on Victor's bloody fucking endless list.
It's a good long pause of looking away, jaw and fingers on the gun, clenched before he looks back up. When it might look to anyone around him like shock, or relief, but all it is flooding through him is useless livid realization he is now back to square fucking one on Victor Hesse's location and plan. Without a lead. Unless he can pull one out of the shrapnel of that house, and it's all because he picked that guy who got trigger happy if a gun so much as moved.
It's to Danny's benefit that a wave sirens and then squad cars come speeding into the place just then, and a wave of cops with them, that Steve sure as hell doesn't want to be looking at or dealing with anymore than he wants to have to step a few feet toward his partner now. So he doesn't, go back toward Danny, he goes forward toward the cars. To find the highest ranking person involved there, so he can hand off whatever the hell he needs, and get back to Doran's place without them having anyone touch it first.
Once he's done that, he'll find a way to shove it all back down, in. Do the job, every avenue, no feelings involved.