Steve doesn't actually balk much at the food shoved at him. Mostly likely because he's already having to catch it before it hits his lap and the seat between his legs before he can really be making much noise about it, and he really doesn't care that much about it. Holding it. Danny is driving, and Danny's already shown he's just as incapable of talking without his hands in the car as he does anywhere else he was talking.
The Palace is a lot like he remembers it from his early teens. At least for the outside. Towering. Stately. Historically picturesque. He'd never given the inside much thought, and returning it's an odd feeling to have that completely reversed. The outside is nice. Like a paint coat is nice. Like a golden statue is nice. But he doesn't care about it at all. He wants to know where his offices are, and wants to be in there already. The rest is just details.
Like the minutes between the getting the food shoved at him and parking, between the parking lot and pushing into the building, into a sudden cloud of office could air. Stopping one person to get directions to the area Jameson had said now belonged to him. Upstairs wasn't far, and it was better, by far, than the worst he'd managed in the past. Empty offices, empty furniture everywhere else, gear wrapped in plastic, and one space in the center that had been cobbled together in n obvious hurry. But one that looked like it worked.
Chin Ho Kelly was already eyes deep in a laptop as they walked in, and had half-filled a suspect board behind him self. Both of those, by themselves, without his father, anchored a little more respect for the man, himself, in Steve's eyes. At least topically.
Even if it didn't cross much of his demeanor as he lifted a bag, saying they'd gotten food, while he was grabbing the back of a chair to drag over to that roughshod make-shift command center of the moment at the same time. If Kelly looked surprised to have a plate box pushed across the table at him, even after that announcement, it's just another thing Steve could pretend not to notice, too, while gesturing to the laptop and saying he better have something. Again.
no subject
The Palace is a lot like he remembers it from his early teens. At least for the outside. Towering. Stately. Historically picturesque. He'd never given the inside much thought, and returning it's an odd feeling to have that completely reversed. The outside is nice. Like a paint coat is nice. Like a golden statue is nice. But he doesn't care about it at all. He wants to know where his offices are, and wants to be in there already. The rest is just details.
Like the minutes between the getting the food shoved at him and parking, between the parking lot and pushing into the building, into a sudden cloud of office could air. Stopping one person to get directions to the area Jameson had said now belonged to him. Upstairs wasn't far, and it was better, by far, than the worst he'd managed in the past. Empty offices, empty furniture everywhere else, gear wrapped in plastic, and one space in the center that had been cobbled together in n obvious hurry. But one that looked like it worked.
Chin Ho Kelly was already eyes deep in a laptop as they walked in, and had half-filled a suspect board behind him self.
Both of those, by themselves, without his father, anchored a little more respect for the man, himself, in Steve's eyes. At least topically.
Even if it didn't cross much of his demeanor as he lifted a bag, saying they'd gotten food, while he was grabbing the back of a chair to drag over to that roughshod make-shift command center of the moment at the same time. If Kelly looked surprised to have a plate box pushed across the table at him, even after that announcement, it's just another thing Steve could pretend not to notice, too, while gesturing to the laptop and saying he better have something. Again.