Even after Danny gets to everything you say can and will be used against you, he's still spouting off. He almost sounds relieved about it, like their sting lanced some ugly boil, and all the infection is coming pouring out.
"-- gotta clean the streets," he's saying, "somebody's got to do it, and I was right, wasn't I, you two are just as bad as any of them in there, sick. I saw you. Both of you."
"Shut up," Danny suggests, with a shove, but the guy won't, just keeps talking, and it's just plain kismet that they've reached the car, and Danny can push him into the frame, and get a satisfying oof, that might not settle everything coiling and tense in his stomach, but does provide some slight, edged relief.
Probably not a good sign.
Which only means it's worse when he starts up again. "You pigs, you disgust me. It's not right."
Danny shakes him, hard. "Shut up. You're the worst, you know that? The worst. You don't get to take the law into your own hands. You don't get to decide what's right or wrong, okay, we will do that for you, we are literally paid to do that for you, so scumbags like you don't get to take those decisions on and do what you did. People are dead because of you."
There's a knife-edge glint to the man's smile. "And you would be, too, on any other night."
Making something in Danny's gut freeze, solid, and shatter. Because he wouldn't. He wouldn't be there on any other night.
Except there were nights when he might not have been able to say that. And nights when it could have. Maybe not this place. But one maybe not too unlike it.
Which just means he leans his weight against the guy, while blue lights flash in the distance, and turns his head so he's forced to see them coming. "Not anymore."
no subject
In a strange twist, this guy won't stop talking.
Even after Danny gets to everything you say can and will be used against you, he's still spouting off. He almost sounds relieved about it, like their sting lanced some ugly boil, and all the infection is coming pouring out.
"-- gotta clean the streets," he's saying, "somebody's got to do it, and I was right, wasn't I, you two are just as bad as any of them in there, sick. I saw you. Both of you."
"Shut up," Danny suggests, with a shove, but the guy won't, just keeps talking, and it's just plain kismet that they've reached the car, and Danny can push him into the frame, and get a satisfying oof, that might not settle everything coiling and tense in his stomach, but does provide some slight, edged relief.
Probably not a good sign.
Which only means it's worse when he starts up again. "You pigs, you disgust me. It's not right."
Danny shakes him, hard. "Shut up. You're the worst, you know that? The worst. You don't get to take the law into your own hands. You don't get to decide what's right or wrong, okay, we will do that for you, we are literally paid to do that for you, so scumbags like you don't get to take those decisions on and do what you did. People are dead because of you."
There's a knife-edge glint to the man's smile. "And you would be, too, on any other night."
Making something in Danny's gut freeze, solid, and shatter. Because he wouldn't. He wouldn't be there on any other night.
Except there were nights when he might not have been able to say that. And nights when it could have. Maybe not this place. But one maybe not too unlike it.
Which just means he leans his weight against the guy, while blue lights flash in the distance, and turns his head so he's forced to see them coming. "Not anymore."