He's standing in the living room, staring at Rachel.
He's standing at an airfield, unable to pull a trigger.
He's standing here, and Steve is there, looking like Danny just stabbed him.
Every time, it's the same. Danny yells. Danny makes a scene. Danny gets sensitive, and Danny lets his emotions get the better of him, and every time, every. Time. It's not enough.
Couldn't convince Rachel, or Matt. Won't convince Steve, who's staring at Danny like Danny's head just rolled off his shoulders and across the carpet.
There might be some magical collection or sequence of words to say, to convince him, to put this back to being right, but Danny's never been able to find them, when it counts, and he still can't, probably couldn't even if he didn't feel hollowed out inside, gutted and empty.
Leaving him to wait, for a long moment, while Steve just stares at him, until he takes in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut against the ache in his head, the dizzy one in his chest, and huffs out a breath. "Okay."
There's something final about it that he hates, and he wants to wait, give Steve another chance, but it's never happened before, and it won't here, now, either, and he doesn't want to always be that guy, right, the one who can't buy a clue, so he drops his hand, waves it towards Steve. Turning. "You just go ahead and mull that over -- or forget it, whatever works best --"
Already taking steps back towards the door, hand up. "And I'll see you Monday morning, unless I get a call saying I'm suspended. Okay? Okay. Good talk."
no subject
Every time.
Every time, it's the same thing.
He's standing in the living room, staring at Rachel.
He's standing at an airfield, unable to pull a trigger.
He's standing here, and Steve is there, looking like Danny just stabbed him.
Every time, it's the same. Danny yells. Danny makes a scene. Danny gets sensitive, and Danny lets his emotions get the better of him, and every time, every. Time. It's not enough.
Couldn't convince Rachel, or Matt. Won't convince Steve, who's staring at Danny like Danny's head just rolled off his shoulders and across the carpet.
There might be some magical collection or sequence of words to say, to convince him, to put this back to being right, but Danny's never been able to find them, when it counts, and he still can't, probably couldn't even if he didn't feel hollowed out inside, gutted and empty.
Leaving him to wait, for a long moment, while Steve just stares at him, until he takes in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut against the ache in his head, the dizzy one in his chest, and huffs out a breath. "Okay."
There's something final about it that he hates, and he wants to wait, give Steve another chance, but it's never happened before, and it won't here, now, either, and he doesn't want to always be that guy, right, the one who can't buy a clue, so he drops his hand, waves it towards Steve. Turning. "You just go ahead and mull that over -- or forget it, whatever works best --"
Already taking steps back towards the door, hand up. "And I'll see you Monday morning, unless I get a call saying I'm suspended. Okay? Okay. Good talk."