"You're a really stellar conversationalist, you know that?"
With a disbelieving glance tossed across the cab towards the passenger seat and the man sitting in it, while Danny's eyebrows climb up and in towards each other. Two things, Steve's said today, that haven't been directly related to the case. First his curiosity about Danno (and he can just keep being curious, okay, that's no one's business, and definitely not Steve's), and then actually answering a question about how he knew Chin.
And that's it. Does he even know how to have a conversation that isn't about a mission, or strategy, or collecting and following leads?
He rolls his wrist just enough to see the edge of the line of numbers stamped across the thin, pale skin inside it, frowns back at the road. It just doesn't make sense, okay? Steve is nothing like Rachel, and he's nothing like the girls Danny's been interested before, or the guys he's every now and again checked out (listen, you never know who the numbers will end up on, better to be prepared if at all possible so you're not dealing with a sudden about face of everything previously known about your own preferences). He's like no one Danny's ever met before: focused and steely, reckless, almost entirely silent after the first flurry of words in the garage.
Yeah, he doesn't get it. "Okay, well, anything else you want to pick up on the way? Equipment? Coffee? Food? Have you actually eaten today, or are you just running on righteous fury? Because I feel like that's got pretty much zip for nutritional value."
no subject
With a disbelieving glance tossed across the cab towards the passenger seat and the man sitting in it, while Danny's eyebrows climb up and in towards each other. Two things, Steve's said today, that haven't been directly related to the case. First his curiosity about Danno (and he can just keep being curious, okay, that's no one's business, and definitely not Steve's), and then actually answering a question about how he knew Chin.
And that's it. Does he even know how to have a conversation that isn't about a mission, or strategy, or collecting and following leads?
He rolls his wrist just enough to see the edge of the line of numbers stamped across the thin, pale skin inside it, frowns back at the road. It just doesn't make sense, okay? Steve is nothing like Rachel, and he's nothing like the girls Danny's been interested before, or the guys he's every now and again checked out (listen, you never know who the numbers will end up on, better to be prepared if at all possible so you're not dealing with a sudden about face of everything previously known about your own preferences). He's like no one Danny's ever met before: focused and steely, reckless, almost entirely silent after the first flurry of words in the garage.
Yeah, he doesn't get it. "Okay, well, anything else you want to pick up on the way? Equipment? Coffee? Food? Have you actually eaten today, or are you just running on righteous fury? Because I feel like that's got pretty much zip for nutritional value."