He lifts one hand just enough to give it an indifferent wave.
"Close enough."
He doesn't really care. Army, Navy, Marines...it's all military nonsense to him. He doesn't have the first idea what the difference between a Captain or Commander is, wouldn't give a damn about it even if he did. Kind of like how he doesn't really give a damn for Steve holding the door for him, or say thanks, even in passing. What? It's the least the guy can do.
Which brings them out into brilliant sunshine that makes the earlier rainshower seem like an impossibility, while Danny screws up his face and squints against the light. It's everywhere here, reflecting off water and shiny windows and glossy cars, and Danny's pretty sure he lost his sunglasses in the movie. It's accosting, this sunshine, aggressive. It attacks in a way he'd previously thought impossible, because the sun rises and sets at a decent time in Jersey, and is occasionally blocked by things like clouds, which Hawaii has clearly never heard of, which makes it sort of a pleasant anomaly when there is a clear, sunny day.
He's pretty sure this sun is out to get him. It'll be a miracle if he manages to keep from developing melanoma.
Fortunately, Steve opens his mouth again, and just gives to him, an open invitation. It's practically engraved, with his name on it. "Do I think you're missing something? Do I have to only pick one? As far as I can tell, you're missing all kinds of things, including, but not limited to, a sense of self-preservation, a sense of humor, the ability to disengage from whatever personal mission you're currently obsessing over, a car of your own, perspective, and the basic understanding that people and not the same thing as equipment."
At the car, he leans the box between his hip and the car side so he can open the trunk. "But you know, I'm just spitballing, here."
no subject
He lifts one hand just enough to give it an indifferent wave.
"Close enough."
He doesn't really care. Army, Navy, Marines...it's all military nonsense to him. He doesn't have the first idea what the difference between a Captain or Commander is, wouldn't give a damn about it even if he did. Kind of like how he doesn't really give a damn for Steve holding the door for him, or say thanks, even in passing. What? It's the least the guy can do.
Which brings them out into brilliant sunshine that makes the earlier rainshower seem like an impossibility, while Danny screws up his face and squints against the light. It's everywhere here, reflecting off water and shiny windows and glossy cars, and Danny's pretty sure he lost his sunglasses in the movie. It's accosting, this sunshine, aggressive. It attacks in a way he'd previously thought impossible, because the sun rises and sets at a decent time in Jersey, and is occasionally blocked by things like clouds, which Hawaii has clearly never heard of, which makes it sort of a pleasant anomaly when there is a clear, sunny day.
He's pretty sure this sun is out to get him. It'll be a miracle if he manages to keep from developing melanoma.
Fortunately, Steve opens his mouth again, and just gives to him, an open invitation. It's practically engraved, with his name on it. "Do I think you're missing something? Do I have to only pick one? As far as I can tell, you're missing all kinds of things, including, but not limited to, a sense of self-preservation, a sense of humor, the ability to disengage from whatever personal mission you're currently obsessing over, a car of your own, perspective, and the basic understanding that people and not the same thing as equipment."
At the car, he leans the box between his hip and the car side so he can open the trunk. "But you know, I'm just spitballing, here."