Danny tone gets a little sharper, more demanding and Steve takes a deep breath in through his nose, letting it expand his chest and pass out again, while Danny is suddenly throwing out words, like somehow absolutely everything he's trying is suddenly wrong. Instead of defensible and maybe a little wrong, if he's needled into not being able to look away from what he did.
And Steve knows he has to say something. He knows this tone, incredibly well, the direction it heads.
Frustration crossing his Danny with something that anyone else might think is desperation or exasperation, but Steve can pretty easily identify it as fear. That first flicker of concerned focus like something might have gone with with Grace, while he's being updated things from Rachel.
Steve freed one of his hands, reaching up to rub his neck, forcing his mouth to open, and shoving from whatever thick blank, confusing, feeling was stumbling everywhere and painting the inside of his chest momentarily grey. "Yes. No." The words scatter at rehashing the questions, before he just, shoves them away, feeling too tall and like he's taking up too much space, and too unwilling to let his other hand leave Danny.
Letting the one at his neck drop, for a straight sliced gesture in the air. "It's fine." Because that's not the most awkward, or inaccurate set of words for an apology. That might have been flippant but was at least said. When Danny might be at least finally expressing some acknowledgement that Steve's weekend hadn't been designed to end on the note that was sucking away all the happiness he found with his time with Grace.
He just didn't have any idea what to do with. What to do with it, that wasn't a programmed, very uniformed, trained answer. The kind that was so much less of an actual answer than saying absolutely nothing at all. When it was show, pomp and circumstances, but it wasn't this. When Steve just wrinkles his face a little, tipping his head, and what falls out is, "Besmirching? Really?"
no subject
And Steve knows he has to say something. He knows this tone, incredibly well, the direction it heads.
Frustration crossing his Danny with something that anyone else might think is desperation or exasperation, but Steve can pretty easily identify it as fear. That first flicker of concerned focus like something might have gone with with Grace, while he's being updated things from Rachel.
Steve freed one of his hands, reaching up to rub his neck, forcing his mouth to open, and shoving from whatever thick blank, confusing, feeling was stumbling everywhere and painting the inside of his chest momentarily grey. "Yes. No." The words scatter at rehashing the questions, before he just, shoves them away, feeling too tall and like he's taking up too much space, and too unwilling to let his other hand leave Danny.
Letting the one at his neck drop, for a straight sliced gesture in the air. "It's fine." Because that's not the most awkward, or inaccurate set of words for an apology. That might have been flippant but was at least said. When Danny might be at least finally expressing some acknowledgement that Steve's weekend hadn't been designed to end on the note that was sucking away all the happiness he found with his time with Grace.
He just didn't have any idea what to do with. What to do with it, that wasn't a programmed, very uniformed, trained answer. The kind that was so much less of an actual answer than saying absolutely nothing at all. When it was show, pomp and circumstances, but it wasn't this. When Steve just wrinkles his face a little, tipping his head, and what falls out is, "Besmirching? Really?"