"I don't like cotton candy," she says, firmly, which, okay, the kid has decent taste. No one likes cotton candy flavor, all right? It is an abomination.
But Steve's floundering in a way Danny hasn't seen at all today, and honestly can't, for a second, believe he is seeing, while treating this small child like she's an international threat, asking for state secrets instead of curious about whether or not they're cops, and, frankly, people are starting to pay attention. He's too brusque, too sharp with her, too obviously trying to get rid of her, and, apparently, is even worse at damage control than he is about not causing the damage to begin with.
Which means Danny's up to bat, but that's fine, okay? He may not be a SEAL or the leader of some highly trained death squad, but he can handle a little girl. "I got something you might like, okay?"
It's a world of difference between Steve's tone and his. Steve's all blunt, interrogating, and Danny is relaxed, friendly without being too friendly (because frankly, as a father, he can't think of anything that would make his blood run cold faster than two grown men showing too much interest in Grace), but it's a moot point. He's already handing his cone to Steve so he can reach through the passenger seat window and search until his fingers encounter soft plush and floppy ears. "How 'bout --"
The rabbit's huge and pink and floppy, and she lights up like it's Christmas morning when she sees it, which hurts a little, because he didn't get to see that smile on Grace's face, but it's triumphant, too, when she says, eager: "Yeah. Thanks!"
Taking it without further invitation, the stuffed animal almost as big as she is, and running off, and it's a good feeling, too. Even if it aches a little.
It's easy to make kids happy, but that doesn't make it any less incredible to see or satisfying to do. "You're welcome," he says, as she scampers off to play, leaving him to put his empty hands in his pockets, smiling to himself a little rueful, before turning back to Steve to get his cone back.
Only to find the other man already watching him, an unreadable expression on his face, that makes Danny squint in the sun, trying to interpret. "What?"
no subject
"I don't like cotton candy," she says, firmly, which, okay, the kid has decent taste. No one likes cotton candy flavor, all right? It is an abomination.
But Steve's floundering in a way Danny hasn't seen at all today, and honestly can't, for a second, believe he is seeing, while treating this small child like she's an international threat, asking for state secrets instead of curious about whether or not they're cops, and, frankly, people are starting to pay attention. He's too brusque, too sharp with her, too obviously trying to get rid of her, and, apparently, is even worse at damage control than he is about not causing the damage to begin with.
Which means Danny's up to bat, but that's fine, okay? He may not be a SEAL or the leader of some highly trained death squad, but he can handle a little girl. "I got something you might like, okay?"
It's a world of difference between Steve's tone and his. Steve's all blunt, interrogating, and Danny is relaxed, friendly without being too friendly (because frankly, as a father, he can't think of anything that would make his blood run cold faster than two grown men showing too much interest in Grace), but it's a moot point. He's already handing his cone to Steve so he can reach through the passenger seat window and search until his fingers encounter soft plush and floppy ears. "How 'bout --"
The rabbit's huge and pink and floppy, and she lights up like it's Christmas morning when she sees it, which hurts a little, because he didn't get to see that smile on Grace's face, but it's triumphant, too, when she says, eager: "Yeah. Thanks!"
Taking it without further invitation, the stuffed animal almost as big as she is, and running off, and it's a good feeling, too. Even if it aches a little.
It's easy to make kids happy, but that doesn't make it any less incredible to see or satisfying to do. "You're welcome," he says, as she scampers off to play, leaving him to put his empty hands in his pockets, smiling to himself a little rueful, before turning back to Steve to get his cone back.
Only to find the other man already watching him, an unreadable expression on his face, that makes Danny squint in the sun, trying to interpret. "What?"