It's annoying. Standing. Waiting. Even knowing the minutes will pass, and the food will come to them, and then they'll be out of this place. Even if, and he's not acknowledging this to Danny standing over there, still drumming his fingers, like he can't manage to bear with five minutes without moving or making some noise, the standing here is making him aware he might be hungry.
It's shot through with a lot of everything else going on, but the constant food smells, tugging and tucking themselves into him as familiar, even old familiar, more than foreign, start his gut churning a little bit. Tightening. Maybe it's not the worst idea. If Danny can manage to get them back to The Palace without another pitstop it'll have been worth it, and there can be food while they're decompressing whatever this new information is.
Steve can will, while not giving in to the urge to reach up and rub at his neck, that Chin Ho won't need any distractions first.
He heads for the doors nearly the moment he watches Danny's hand go connecting with the bag, even if it makes that churning in his stomach a little more present. But it's not like he hasn't ignored far worse for far longer when he needed to, and he'll have his next meal within the next twenty minutes. He doesn't want it now, regardless of what his body is saying. He wants to be in The Palace. Wants to see if Jameson's quick outfit is good enough. Wants to be hearing what this lead is.
Once that's happening he can see to the rest of it. Because he'll have a direction finally. A name. A head to stomp on, and with that will come a location to a storm. Everything will go back in a center point. One he'll keep from being shot before he has the information on Hesse this time. Even if that thought only comes with a half glance toward the other side of the car, when he's grabbing his door and sliding back into the passenger seat.
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It's shot through with a lot of everything else going on, but the constant food smells, tugging and tucking themselves into him as familiar, even old familiar, more than foreign, start his gut churning a little bit. Tightening. Maybe it's not the worst idea. If Danny can manage to get them back to The Palace without another pitstop it'll have been worth it, and there can be food while they're decompressing whatever this new information is.
Steve can will, while not giving in to the urge to reach up and rub at his neck, that Chin Ho won't need any distractions first.
He heads for the doors nearly the moment he watches Danny's hand go connecting with the bag, even if it makes that churning in his stomach a little more present. But it's not like he hasn't ignored far worse for far longer when he needed to, and he'll have his next meal within the next twenty minutes. He doesn't want it now, regardless of what his body is saying. He wants to be in The Palace. Wants to see if Jameson's quick outfit is good enough. Wants to be hearing what this lead is.
Once that's happening he can see to the rest of it. Because he'll have a direction finally. A name. A head to stomp on, and with that will come a location to a storm. Everything will go back in a center point. One he'll keep from being shot before he has the information on Hesse this time. Even if that thought only comes with a half glance toward the other side of the car, when he's grabbing his door and sliding back into the passenger seat.