That at least does get an eye roll out of him, dragging up some flippant fondness and warmth back into his hazel eyes, while he's reaching across to place the empty bottle by the side of the table. Errant debate on a second one or a glass of water. Probably a second.

Even when he's shaking his head and letting his mouth curve back closer toward sardonic, "Not if you listen him. I'm sure he'd be glad to give to give you a run down on every single thing I've done wrong this past week, and how many hundreds of times he's nearly died just since getting off the bench, if you just asked."

And maybe, he meant that to come out sardonic, and sarcastic, and maybe it did. But maybe it came out with some affection warped in and wrapped warm, and perverse, but there, right along with the rest of that mess. Danny wasn't about to compliment him if the world wasn't falling apart. Or Danny wasn't. Either, or, really.