Steve settles against the counter. He's got half a file on this, and they'll all be writing it up a while. Half the team wasn't even required in yesterday after they hit the Safe House and found Doris. Danny's might be almost done. Steve'd had a time of it, trying to really stayed focused on anything while his mother walked around looking at framed pieces, making odd little noises or asking questions.
He jaw clenched, tongue working over his top teeth under his lip for a moment, staring at the box, thinking about just how much. And how quickly could he just detail it out. He put his fork into the pile of food, looking up and raising a hand, barely. It hovered in front of his chest, between him and the half-closed box. As he looked at her, all seriousness shading down away the earlier humor.
"Chief Fryer's murderer." One finger. "Delano's associate."
"The person who shot Max, and blew up The HPD." Second one. "Same person."
"Delano took Kono and Malia to frame his own release, and escape. He tried to drown one and shot the other."
And if there's a third and fourth finger, he's, also, focusing somewhere in the air between them. Both of those matter. One of them is cleared up. The other had very positive signs showing. And both of them are still sharp. He should have been here. And yet.
What he'd learned. What he'd found. Could he take that back now? Not at the cost of Malia. But. And what did that even say of him? Now, with whatever it was Doris had done. Not done.
"He--well, either he or Wo Fat," The hand tenses, fingers sort of lost from counting, curling hard, before they go back out. A too sharp gesture. But he can't stop, even for her reactions. "They were working together, but there's no telling which way it went, when or how yet. His people are probably-" And he hates the inaccuracy that seeps in here. "-the one who helo-lifted the heavy-transport, since we caught footage of Delano bringing him back on land."
"Which was before they broke back in HPD, during the clean-up, to rob Narco for the last big ice bust from Kailua."
Yeah. Okay. He's not just a little sorry he didn't get to hurt Delano, himself. One bullet feels way too fast for what he did.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-01-17 02:50 am (UTC)He jaw clenched, tongue working over his top teeth under his lip for a moment, staring at the box, thinking about just how much. And how quickly could he just detail it out. He put his fork into the pile of food, looking up and raising a hand, barely. It hovered in front of his chest, between him and the half-closed box. As he looked at her, all seriousness shading down away the earlier humor.
"Chief Fryer's murderer." One finger. "Delano's associate."
"The person who shot Max, and blew up The HPD." Second one. "Same person."
"Delano took Kono and Malia to frame his own release, and escape. He tried to drown one and shot the other."
And if there's a third and fourth finger, he's, also, focusing somewhere in the air between them. Both of those matter. One of them is cleared up. The other had very positive signs showing. And both of them are still sharp. He should have been here. And yet.
What he'd learned. What he'd found. Could he take that back now? Not at the cost of Malia. But. And what did that even say of him? Now, with whatever it was Doris had done. Not done.
"He--well, either he or Wo Fat," The hand tenses, fingers sort of lost from counting, curling hard, before they go back out. A too sharp gesture. But he can't stop, even for her reactions. "They were working together, but there's no telling which way it went, when or how yet. His people are probably-" And he hates the inaccuracy that seeps in here. "-the one who helo-lifted the heavy-transport, since we caught footage of Delano bringing him back on land."
"Which was before they broke back in HPD, during the clean-up, to rob Narco for the last big ice bust from Kailua."
Yeah. Okay. He's not just a little sorry he didn't get to hurt Delano, himself. One bullet feels way too fast for what he did.