There's a short moment of tension that's not tension, not unpleasant, just a pause --

And then Steve's phone rings, sending him shifting back while Danny leans forward, peering out at the water and taking a sip of his beer and letting Steve have a little privacy for the call. Or, taking a moment for himself; who could blame him? That got...

Personal.

Surprisingly so. A lot of that is stuff he hasn't even talked to Meka about in so many words, though he's sure Meka's guessed, or figured it out. He's a good detective. And it's not like it's a secret, but it's also nothing he saw himself talking to Steve about, a few hours ago, when his face was in the dirt and his arm was twisted behind his back. Or before that. Or after.

And yet, here he is, sipping beer on the beach behind Steve's childhood home, like they were always going to end up right here...or something. He doesn't put a lot of faith in fate, no matter what his wrist might try to tell him.

Not looking back until Steve's hung up, and then it's only: "What've you got?"