Danny, well-dressed in that grey suit again, making his way through the crowd, sliding between other men as equally well dressed as himself. Earning himself a handful of eyes that follow him once he's passed them, both those with companions already and some who aren't, the second of whom stare even longer. Something rankles at Steve, but it's not new and what's also nowhere near new is that so far Danny doesn't seem to have even noticed. Any of them.
Sure, there's the occasional smile he throws out at passing people. Polite. But no different from the kind he'll slap on for people he's passing when he doesn't have his head stuck in the sand for good or bad reasons. They've all had enough of those to go around. It's not the one that stops people in their tracks yet, which means the job itself is probably catching up with Danny right around the ankles. With ice.
Even though Danny was the one who said to go with it. Who hadn't seemed against the scheme once it was laid out.
They did what they needed to do to get the job done. Keep people alive. Catch a killer. Close a hothouse.
Steve's got the rounds, glass in hand. He smiles at those people who pass him, even tosses some words into it when he needs to. To direct someone where to go, or who just drags him in for a question about himself. He has a telltale to those who know how to spot it, and he notices the exact second people see it, and then start considering him, while he has to pretend he's anything but delighted to be raked over suddenly like a potential meal plate and not a person who could break them in at least thirty ways before they got the breath for a first word.
A single red rose bud is pinned to his lapel. Innocuous looking, even to the small black-edged white ribbon at the base.
But the ones who are looking for it, know it on sight. They stop him for casual conversations. Where's he from. Did he see the game. The stock market today. How's his night. It's all good. Especially since he refrains from the response he wants to say. Letting it boom in his head a little stronger each time. That it'll be ever better once he put his fist through the jaw of another killer and takes him in.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-30 03:41 am (UTC)He can look. It's not out of part for him.
Danny, well-dressed in that grey suit again, making his way through the crowd, sliding between other men as equally well dressed as himself. Earning himself a handful of eyes that follow him once he's passed them, both those with companions already and some who aren't, the second of whom stare even longer. Something rankles at Steve, but it's not new and what's also nowhere near new is that so far Danny doesn't seem to have even noticed. Any of them.
Sure, there's the occasional smile he throws out at passing people. Polite. But no different from the kind he'll slap on for people he's passing when he doesn't have his head stuck in the sand for good or bad reasons. They've all had enough of those to go around. It's not the one that stops people in their tracks yet, which means the job itself is probably catching up with Danny right around the ankles. With ice.
Even though Danny was the one who said to go with it. Who hadn't seemed against the scheme once it was laid out.
They did what they needed to do to get the job done. Keep people alive. Catch a killer. Close a hothouse.
Steve's got the rounds, glass in hand. He smiles at those people who pass him, even tosses some words into it when he needs to. To direct someone where to go, or who just drags him in for a question about himself. He has a telltale to those who know how to spot it, and he notices the exact second people see it, and then start considering him, while he has to pretend he's anything but delighted to be raked over suddenly like a potential meal plate and not a person who could break them in at least thirty ways before they got the breath for a first word.
A single red rose bud is pinned to his lapel. Innocuous looking, even to the small black-edged white ribbon at the base.
But the ones who are looking for it, know it on sight. They stop him for casual conversations. Where's he from. Did he see the game. The stock market today. How's his night. It's all good. Especially since he refrains from the response he wants to say. Letting it boom in his head a little stronger each time. That it'll be ever better once he put his fist through the jaw of another killer and takes him in.