"That's the Marines, not the Navy," Steve corrects the man's badly chosen insult-example with a half roll of his eyes, even when he does reach out to grab the door behind Danny trying to maneuver through it with the box and without any help. Which he could manage, but Steve could, also, pretend to give a damn about that, too, while giving a damn about incorrectly being either compared to, or called, a Jar Head.
If its, also, slathered with Steve's disbelief about him having any friends, it's not in Danny imagination either.
Not that Steve has any room to talk. He's not expecting anyone to call and check up on him about everything with his Dad here. He's already heard all he'll probably hear from his CO during the call that had him transferring to the Reserves for this whole cracker box setup. Which they've all worked the craziest angles before for the job.. That's why the unspoken, but completely understood by everyone, expectation is he'll do what he has to, in any government bed he has to do it in, to get Hesse and then he'll be back.
The only person who would have called to see, wouldn't be. Couldn't. Now. He should call Kelly. That should be on him.
But even that turns up the sour, bright taste of copper under his tongue and knots in his gut. Because he won't be soon either.
"Can't say it hasn't worked," Steve pops off, outpacing his head and keeping up with Danny as they cross the parking lot. "Unless you think I'm missing something."
Which he wasn't. He'd gotten a handful of people. A plan. Sure, okay, one dead body that was still a sore spot. One clock to the jaw that, even when he tested his jaw shifting, really wasn't. It wasn't even an itch compared to what he was used to roll out with at times. Everything about how he presented himself, and how he acted about what he expected of everyone at every level, got the job done.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2014-08-19 04:21 am (UTC)If its, also, slathered with Steve's disbelief about him having any friends, it's not in Danny imagination either.
Not that Steve has any room to talk. He's not expecting anyone to call and check up on him about everything with his Dad here. He's already heard all he'll probably hear from his CO during the call that had him transferring to the Reserves for this whole cracker box setup. Which they've all worked the craziest angles before for the job.. That's why the unspoken, but completely understood by everyone, expectation is he'll do what he has to, in any government bed he has to do it in, to get Hesse and then he'll be back.
The only person who would have called to see, wouldn't be. Couldn't. Now. He should call Kelly. That should be on him.
But even that turns up the sour, bright taste of copper under his tongue and knots in his gut. Because he won't be soon either.
"Can't say it hasn't worked," Steve pops off, outpacing his head and keeping up with Danny as they cross the parking lot. "Unless you think I'm missing something."
Which he wasn't. He'd gotten a handful of people. A plan. Sure, okay, one dead body that was still a sore spot. One clock to the jaw that, even when he tested his jaw shifting, really wasn't. It wasn't even an itch compared to what he was used to roll out with at times. Everything about how he presented himself, and how he acted about what he expected of everyone at every level, got the job done.