Danny may present himself as angry and bitter and walled off, and maybe he hates this pile of sand and live volcanoes masquerading as land mass, but that doesn't mean he can't be impressed. And he is. He's impressed. Chin Ho Kelly's cousin skates over the water like she owns it, pure confidence and skill. She's taking charge of the least trustworthy element known to mankind, and making it look easy. Graceful. And when she socks a guy in the jaw for jumping her wave, and comes jogging up with wet hair swinging and pure delight clearing her face, he has to say he's pretty damn disappointed his timer didn't choose a later moment to go off.
Say, now, for instance. Her grip is firm and friendly, and she's got a willowy beauty that'll make any guy turn his head, but it only barely disguises the strength he's just seen in action.
Even McGarrett's impressed. It takes him about thirty seconds from getting on the beach to offering her the gig, and the girl -- Kono -- leaps at the chance with the kind of hungry ambition Danny remembers from his own Academy days. She's not discouraged by the danger, she doesn't back down from the challenge -- yeah. She'll be just fine. Young an impetuous, but she seems like she's got a good head on her shoulders, which is more than Danny can say for the rest of them, himself included.
Or maybe himself most, because even once they've got a plan hammered out and arranged for equipment and the sun is starting to sink, he doesn't leave right for home. Doesn't kick McGarrett out of his car and into a cab, doesn't make loud noises saying he needs to get back.
Well, he doesn't. There's nothing for him in that apartment tonight aside from leftover Chinese food and Stanley Cup reruns on Youtube. It's an empty apartment, the kind of place a rat might go to die, and despite everything, despite all the kicks and shoves and the pitfalls the world has pushed him into --
He's not dead yet. And there's a line of numbers on his wrist that the world wants him to believe means he might still have a chance at life.
he might not believe in it, and he might hate Steve McGarrett with the fire of a thousand angry suns, but it's still there. A perhaps. Which is more than the dead certainty of what he already knows he's got, and that might be the saddest fucking thing he's ever thought, but that doesn't make it any less true.
Or maybe it's out of just plain fucking human decency that he says "Need a ride somewhere?" when Chin's headed off to wherever he stays between work hours and McGarrett's looking at loose ends without having a specific task to accomplish.
Or maybe he's crazy. He has to admit, that? Is a distinct possibility.
no subject
Thing is, Chin's guy? Isn't a guy.
Danny may present himself as angry and bitter and walled off, and maybe he hates this pile of sand and live volcanoes masquerading as land mass, but that doesn't mean he can't be impressed. And he is. He's impressed. Chin Ho Kelly's cousin skates over the water like she owns it, pure confidence and skill. She's taking charge of the least trustworthy element known to mankind, and making it look easy. Graceful. And when she socks a guy in the jaw for jumping her wave, and comes jogging up with wet hair swinging and pure delight clearing her face, he has to say he's pretty damn disappointed his timer didn't choose a later moment to go off.
Say, now, for instance. Her grip is firm and friendly, and she's got a willowy beauty that'll make any guy turn his head, but it only barely disguises the strength he's just seen in action.
Even McGarrett's impressed. It takes him about thirty seconds from getting on the beach to offering her the gig, and the girl -- Kono -- leaps at the chance with the kind of hungry ambition Danny remembers from his own Academy days. She's not discouraged by the danger, she doesn't back down from the challenge -- yeah. She'll be just fine. Young an impetuous, but she seems like she's got a good head on her shoulders, which is more than Danny can say for the rest of them, himself included.
Or maybe himself most, because even once they've got a plan hammered out and arranged for equipment and the sun is starting to sink, he doesn't leave right for home. Doesn't kick McGarrett out of his car and into a cab, doesn't make loud noises saying he needs to get back.
Well, he doesn't. There's nothing for him in that apartment tonight aside from leftover Chinese food and Stanley Cup reruns on Youtube. It's an empty apartment, the kind of place a rat might go to die, and despite everything, despite all the kicks and shoves and the pitfalls the world has pushed him into --
He's not dead yet. And there's a line of numbers on his wrist that the world wants him to believe means he might still have a chance at life.
he might not believe in it, and he might hate Steve McGarrett with the fire of a thousand angry suns, but it's still there. A perhaps. Which is more than the dead certainty of what he already knows he's got, and that might be the saddest fucking thing he's ever thought, but that doesn't make it any less true.
Or maybe it's out of just plain fucking human decency that he says "Need a ride somewhere?" when Chin's headed off to wherever he stays between work hours and McGarrett's looking at loose ends without having a specific task to accomplish.
Or maybe he's crazy. He has to admit, that? Is a distinct possibility.