Steve can pretend he's amused by Danny sounding entirely put out. Still grumbling and growling after he got his way, scared off the guy Steve could have gotten rid of just fine once he, or they, need him to. A junk yard dog still rattling his chain just in case anyone else got stupid enough to want to talk to Steve. Might consider the risk, or just want to give it a whirl. The way he used to.
Even if 'the way he used to,' seems so long ago and far away now. Like he got old without realizing it.
He hasn't really even wanted to consider it, with anyone, since Cath left. There were a few seconds where he'd considered Ellie, but he couldn't find it in him for anything longer than those seconds and their pasts were mixed up enough, in ways he couldn't entirely settle out his fingers on. She was better as a colleague, and Steve was better off figuring out that maybe he didn't have it in him to be any of those things everyone was looking for.
He was good at what he did. The best. But maybe the rest had gone the way of black marks and redacts, too. Some men had what it took to be both of those, and some didn't. It was just the way of things.
It's too self-pitying even as a thought, blown off, when Steve shrugs, "You meet one of them, you've met them all."
He means the type. Rich, proud, and expecting the seas to part before and behind them. But he means the guy, too. Not that he's ever been paid for it. But he's done enough things he'd rather Danny never figured out. Things that get close to places like these, even if it hasn't been for a decade in the widest set of examples and just what's on offer specifically, the men (though, the ones here aren't anything like Steve's ever gone looking for), even in the years Danny's known him. If seldom and few enough to keep it quietly off the table. For several reasons.
Steve drug a stool closer to Danny. Close enough it's closer than he'd have normally considered natural or given even for them. Close enough it gives the appearance of there being a reason Steve chose this guy over the guy half around him, willing to shell unneeded money at him. He didn't really care. Neither of them did. Not when Danny's actually flagging down the bar tender without a real argument. The fuss and fire of grousing.
"You get my sterling company," Steve leaned toward Danny, even if his smirk was smugly pointed, "All to yourself now." Before he set a forearm easily on the front of the bar after considering the woodgrain and few stains. Even if these weren't any of his blues and whites. Old habits. Flicking in and out, between his words. "What else could you want?"
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-10-06 02:12 am (UTC)Steve can pretend he's amused by Danny sounding entirely put out. Still grumbling and growling after he got his way, scared off the guy Steve could have gotten rid of just fine once he, or they, need him to. A junk yard dog still rattling his chain just in case anyone else got stupid enough to want to talk to Steve. Might consider the risk, or just want to give it a whirl. The way he used to.
Even if 'the way he used to,' seems so long ago and far away now. Like he got old without realizing it.
He hasn't really even wanted to consider it, with anyone, since Cath left. There were a few seconds where he'd considered Ellie, but he couldn't find it in him for anything longer than those seconds and their pasts were mixed up enough, in ways he couldn't entirely settle out his fingers on. She was better as a colleague, and Steve was better off figuring out that maybe he didn't have it in him to be any of those things everyone was looking for.
He was good at what he did. The best. But maybe the rest had gone the way of black marks and redacts, too.
Some men had what it took to be both of those, and some didn't. It was just the way of things.
It's too self-pitying even as a thought, blown off, when Steve shrugs, "You meet one of them, you've met them all."
He means the type. Rich, proud, and expecting the seas to part before and behind them. But he means the guy, too. Not that he's ever been paid for it. But he's done enough things he'd rather Danny never figured out. Things that get close to places like these, even if it hasn't been for a decade in the widest set of examples and just what's on offer specifically, the men (though, the ones here aren't anything like Steve's ever gone looking for), even in the years Danny's known him. If seldom and few enough to keep it quietly off the table. For several reasons.
Steve drug a stool closer to Danny. Close enough it's closer than he'd have normally considered natural or given even for them. Close enough it gives the appearance of there being a reason Steve chose this guy over the guy half around him, willing to shell unneeded money at him. He didn't really care. Neither of them did. Not when Danny's actually flagging down the bar tender without a real argument. The fuss and fire of grousing.
"You get my sterling company," Steve leaned toward Danny, even if his smirk was smugly pointed, "All to yourself now." Before he set a forearm easily on the front of the bar after considering the woodgrain and few stains. Even if these weren't any of his blues and whites. Old habits. Flicking in and out, between his words. "What else could you want?"