It's basically the jackpot, the room through this door. They could arrest everyone in here, and the proprietor, and the security guard, on just Danny's initial scan of the area. Dubious ethics and non-existent legality, and part of him wants to do exactly that: pull out his piece and his badge and order every damn person in here up against the wall, no matter their state of undress. He wants to take it out on someone, or a crowd of someones, make their night as bad as his, make them as uncomfortable, as guilt-ridden, as frustrated. He wants the upper hand. He wants to ruin their night.
But it'll have to wait. All of this is bad, but it isn't sex trafficking, and it's not out and out prostitution. Every one here is here because they want to be, not because they've been kidnapped and sold into slavery, or drugged to the gills and manipulated. They might be scumbags, but they aren't killers.
Murderers. Like the guy he's sure will be following them in here. They haven't been able to pinpoint his tactics, so they'll have to be on their toes, which means Danny needs his brain to de-fog, now. He has to be able to think, react, keep watch, jump into action. They can't take any stupid chances with this guy.
What they have, though, is a head start, and a dim room, and Danny's hand leaves Steve's back, grips his upper arm in a more familiar motion, tugging him toward the side, to a little alcove with a good vantage point of both the door and the rest of the room, that will still afford them some cover. The mark will be able to see them when he comes in, but that's part of the point, right? And if he doesn't, he'll go for someone else, and they'll get him, then.
All of it easier to think about, than how he's pulling Steve into the shadows, until he feels his own back up against the wall, and Steve's close again. Too close. Or just close enough. To look right, because it still needs to look right, even while Danny's checking over his shoulder at the door that's still closed. "I don't see him."
He feels like he's just run a mile. Breath shallow, pulse racing, and Steve's so close, close enough that even when Danny lets go of his arm, he doesn't know where his hand should go, because there's not a lot of room left.
Just enough for him, and this growing sense of awkward trepidation, that doesn't get any better when he looks from over Steve's shoulder, to up at Steve. Apologies falling apart to dust in his mouth, uncertain and sick. It's not time yet. They aren't clear yet. He doesn't know what to say, only that he should be sorry.
Leaving him with only a pause, for a second too long, while his eyes flick away, before they come back. "I think we got his attention, yeah."
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2015-10-14 02:18 am (UTC)It's basically the jackpot, the room through this door. They could arrest everyone in here, and the proprietor, and the security guard, on just Danny's initial scan of the area. Dubious ethics and non-existent legality, and part of him wants to do exactly that: pull out his piece and his badge and order every damn person in here up against the wall, no matter their state of undress. He wants to take it out on someone, or a crowd of someones, make their night as bad as his, make them as uncomfortable, as guilt-ridden, as frustrated. He wants the upper hand. He wants to ruin their night.
But it'll have to wait. All of this is bad, but it isn't sex trafficking, and it's not out and out prostitution. Every one here is here because they want to be, not because they've been kidnapped and sold into slavery, or drugged to the gills and manipulated. They might be scumbags, but they aren't killers.
Murderers. Like the guy he's sure will be following them in here. They haven't been able to pinpoint his tactics, so they'll have to be on their toes, which means Danny needs his brain to de-fog, now. He has to be able to think, react, keep watch, jump into action. They can't take any stupid chances with this guy.
What they have, though, is a head start, and a dim room, and Danny's hand leaves Steve's back, grips his upper arm in a more familiar motion, tugging him toward the side, to a little alcove with a good vantage point of both the door and the rest of the room, that will still afford them some cover. The mark will be able to see them when he comes in, but that's part of the point, right? And if he doesn't, he'll go for someone else, and they'll get him, then.
All of it easier to think about, than how he's pulling Steve into the shadows, until he feels his own back up against the wall, and Steve's close again. Too close. Or just close enough. To look right, because it still needs to look right, even while Danny's checking over his shoulder at the door that's still closed. "I don't see him."
He feels like he's just run a mile. Breath shallow, pulse racing, and Steve's so close, close enough that even when Danny lets go of his arm, he doesn't know where his hand should go, because there's not a lot of room left.
Just enough for him, and this growing sense of awkward trepidation, that doesn't get any better when he looks from over Steve's shoulder, to up at Steve. Apologies falling apart to dust in his mouth, uncertain and sick. It's not time yet. They aren't clear yet. He doesn't know what to say, only that he should be sorry.
Leaving him with only a pause, for a second too long, while his eyes flick away, before they come back. "I think we got his attention, yeah."