That's not precisely what Steve said, but, for one, Danny is starving, being shot really jumpstarts a guy's appetite, and for two, that hesitation is pure robotic bullshit. It's heading well into the afternoon, and Danny seriously doubts that Steve bothered to stop and get something after running around the island stealing crime scenes from hardworking cops such as himself, because the guy had to actually stop and think about it. "Anything to get that shave ice flavor out of my mouth. If I've gotta have flavored ice, okay, first of all, it better be cherry," lifting his thumb from his finger, followed by his index finger -- one, two, "-- and it better be from Rita's. Anything else?"
All the fingers flatten out, and he sweeps his hand out, like he might possibly erase the menu of thirty-odd flavors and flavor combinations Kamekona had been accosting the beachgoers with. "Overkill. Just not natural. I will make an exception for lemon, but either way, okay, that was not food, so we are getting food, I'm starving, and I bet even SEALs need to eat sometime, or have they just started genetically modifying you all into actual robots, now?"
None of it particularly matters, he's just pouring words out into the air because he's got nothing better to do, while steadfastly ignoring the flash of red that blinks at him now and again as his hand waves.
It won't kill them to stop for a second. The office is still getting set up, and it wouldn't hurt to offer Chin something to eat, too, bridge a little of that gap.
Besides. He caught the way Steve hesitated, thought about it, waved it off again, and there's just no need for that here, today. It's not the middle of the freaking Serbian desert, all right, they can pause to grab a tuna sandwich, or something.
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That's not precisely what Steve said, but, for one, Danny is starving, being shot really jumpstarts a guy's appetite, and for two, that hesitation is pure robotic bullshit. It's heading well into the afternoon, and Danny seriously doubts that Steve bothered to stop and get something after running around the island stealing crime scenes from hardworking cops such as himself, because the guy had to actually stop and think about it. "Anything to get that shave ice flavor out of my mouth. If I've gotta have flavored ice, okay, first of all, it better be cherry," lifting his thumb from his finger, followed by his index finger -- one, two, "-- and it better be from Rita's. Anything else?"
All the fingers flatten out, and he sweeps his hand out, like he might possibly erase the menu of thirty-odd flavors and flavor combinations Kamekona had been accosting the beachgoers with. "Overkill. Just not natural. I will make an exception for lemon, but either way, okay, that was not food, so we are getting food, I'm starving, and I bet even SEALs need to eat sometime, or have they just started genetically modifying you all into actual robots, now?"
None of it particularly matters, he's just pouring words out into the air because he's got nothing better to do, while steadfastly ignoring the flash of red that blinks at him now and again as his hand waves.
It won't kill them to stop for a second. The office is still getting set up, and it wouldn't hurt to offer Chin something to eat, too, bridge a little of that gap.
Besides. He caught the way Steve hesitated, thought about it, waved it off again, and there's just no need for that here, today. It's not the middle of the freaking Serbian desert, all right, they can pause to grab a tuna sandwich, or something.