He rolls his eyes, even as his fingers are rolling off her back, with a last push at the same time as she's stepping away. Taking large strides toward the other side of the car, trying not to think, very seriously, made of exasperation and affection and a sudden shit ton of lopsided, that her first answer is the same kind Danny would have thrown right back at him.

Which is, just, a weird thought for this second, okay.

This second when it's easier to be sliding into the car, shoving his phone and badge-wallet in one of the low hanging pockets of the running shorts, and his sidearm, safety-on, in the glove box. When he'd take the next second to focus, but she's still heaping on the torment with her smile, turning it toward personal accusation even with that curve of her mouth never changing.

Steve had the good form to look offended almost, even if it never hits center, never once touches his eyes. "Basic is just for weeding out the squids who might be able to hack something more than lugging text books and licking up bootblack. Take 'em all and throw 'em in Coronado, and we'll see what's left of that group calling themselves the newest round of crew mates."

Boys in blue and green and brown, struggling against the sound of the bell and a long line of helmets that started on day one. If more than four people on her whole cruiser had what it took, he'd have been surprised. But then there were only roughly two thousand of them, in the whole world. And what they consider any amount of basic training, was first hedged by months of what would break everyone else.

Because that was the whole point of the weed out. Finding the only people in the world who wouldn't.

There was a derisive scoff and hard look. "We'll see who's complaining when you get halfway through."
Which was probably his favorite part. Standing at the top. Hawaii rolling out in everywhere direction.