dann_0 | PSL: Sentinel AU

He's been trying to keep a fairly neutral attitude towards the ex, just on principle, but Steve's explanation is clearly his honest assessment, and Eliot's pretty sure there's only a fairly minimum amount of personal bias to it. The idea that Danny might want her back... well, Eliot's going to set that aside and not think about it, because it's not relevant to any of this.

"We'll just hafta make sure he has absolute proof before he faces her, even if it ain't proof he can show her." Because for all that Danny might trust either or both of their senses, the evidence of a DNA test will be incontrovertible. "It'll be enough to keep him from letting her push him into backin' off." Because there's no way he can see the man just dropping the issue once he knows that kid is his. "An' I got my buddy doin' a little digging around in her husband's background an' financials, pretty sure from what he's found so far, there'll be something we can use as leverage t'get her to back off." Hell, even telling the husband might be enough to seal the deal, if she's been lying about the boy's parentage to keep him from finding out and dumping her. Eliot won't feel even the slightest bit guilty if this ends up imploding her marriage, other than if it adversely effects Danny's kids. They have time to work that part out, though, and it'll mostly be Danny's decision anyway, once they have the proof for him about Charlie's paternity, so Eliot sets that aside for the moment to focus on McGarrett's last question as they pull into the--huge, garish, christ--resort Hardison booked him into.

"Used to it?" He shakes his head and catches his upper lip between his teeth for a moment. "I dunno, man. I mean, I came online when I was probably... twelve or thirteen." Maybe a little younger, it's hard to remember when it all mostly blurs together. "I just didn't know that was what it was, an' no one really paid enough attention t'figure it out. So I'd already been handling it on my own for years before I enlisted an' the military pegged me." And fast-tracked him into black ops. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck and grimaces, thinking back on it.

"Havin' Guides around was... christ, it made the whole damn world finally make some sense, y'know? No matter how fuckin' awful the rest of it was, that... it was a damn revelation." Quieted things down, made it easier to focus and concentrate. Made him feel like there was more to him than the rage and the violence. "An'... after." After getting blown and burned and left to rot, after losing everyone and everything that mattered and managing to drag himself out of hell under his own power despite it. "Well, they figured I was burned out for good an' cut me loose. I figured they were probably right, an' when it turned out they weren't, near on a year later, I, uh, I went pretty much feral. But the crowd I was runnin' with then, no one thought anything of it."

And he'd known enough, even then, to manage to keep himself off the radar. Managed to find anchors to pull him back from zones, managed, eventually, to get himself back under control. "The first year was a fuckin' nightmare." But it was still better than going back. "But yeah, after that... it's never been easy, but it got easier. For a while. You gotta find your own anchors, things you can use to pull yourself back, an' when you can't... you gotta have enough control to at least get the hell away from anyone else before you lose it."

He'd come out of a zone so dehydrated he could barely function more than once in those first few years, but at least he'd always managed to get someplace safe before he got locked too far into his own head. "Routines help. Discipline." He shrugs. "It's been almost fifteen years now." And he knows he's slipping. Has been for a while now. Knows it's just a matter of time before he isn't safe anymore, because his biggest challenge has never been the zoning, it's always been the rage and the blood lust.

'Have your friend cross reference 'Wo Fat', 'Hiro Noshimuri', or 'Pat Jameson' with Stan. Should any of the those names come up you'll be able to find corruption and dirty dealings there." It wouldn't surprise Steve to find out that Stan was involved with at least one of them. He knew Stan was a good man but he had tried to blackmail a dirty commissioner not all that long ago that resulted in Grace and Rachel getting car-jacked and their house ransacked in the process. Danny had cleaned that mess up for him, but Steve was sure there was more.

Parking the car in a spot by the door, Steve turns in his seat to look at Eliot. At first Steve shakes his head in the negative. "Not really. I came online at the Army Navy Academy when I was fifteen. Zoned out in the middle of a football game. One minute I was out on the field and the next waking up in the infirmary being introduced to my supposedly new best friend." He'd been feeling off for the couple of weeks prior but hadn't said anything because he didn't want to be removed from the football team. It had been the only time he felt like himself... Until that had happened. "After that, the only time I was without a guide was when they got themselves killed on a mission," usually trying to control Steve which never seemed to work in their favor. Eventually they stopped sending him on certain missions with a guide because of it, one would be on comms or waiting for him to return. "Or when they were purposely taken away." Steve shrugged. Guides helped to calm and focus him, gave him something to hang on to in what could otherwise be an overwhelming flood of sensory information but not the way it sounded like Eliot experienced in the beginning. But then, Steve's not sure the world ever has made complete sense to him. The most he's found that is with Danny... He shuts that thought down before it can fully take hold.

"It took you a year?" Steve frowns at that and wondered if his experience was a pattern or just a coincidence. "When I lost mine, that's about how long it took for them to come back. I don't think the military realizes..." He lets that sentence hang at the implication it could mean if they didn't. That's not something Steve wants them to learn if they are currently in the dark. When his abilities had come back he'd been working with Danny for almost that entire time. It had been another few months though before he'd zoned and Danny had found him, changing their relationship from best friends to something Steve didn't have a label for. It was that best friend relationship he was trying to get them back to.

"What kind of things did you find you were able to use as anchors?" Steve had a few things that he knew helped him, but he'd never been encouraged by the military to build his own supports. He had always been pushed to rely as much on a guide as possible. At times, Steve could cope with one sense out of whack until he could get himself to somewhere safe - it was often how he managed on missions, but that hadn't been using an anchor, it was more focusing on his other senses and ignoring the one he couldn't control. Then he nods. "Routine and discipline definitely help me as well. Danny doesn't always get it, why things have to be a certain way or done in a particular order." Steve huffs out a laugh at the thought of some of their discussions on those. It's a bittersweet feeling at the moment.

Then, he focuses on Eliot. "Fifteen years is a long time. I give you a lot of credit, man. I honestly didn't think it could be done." Eliot's story gave Steve some hope that he could accomplish the same if others could.

"Wo Fat and Noshimuri?" Eliot's eyebrows arch a little at the names. "Yeah, he's mixed up with any of their shit an' we shouldn't have any trouble getting something on him." He sends off a quick text to Hardison with all three names before shifting his attention back to Steve.

"Yeah, first few times I zoned there wasn't anyone around." Not who'd notice or care, anyway. They'd all been in the middle of beatings from his old man, and he'd honestly just assumed at the time that the bastard had beaten him unconscious. Either way, he'd been grateful for the reprieve more than anything by the time he managed to scrabble his way back to consciousness. "An' most of the other shit-" Lack of impulse control, hair trigger temper, especially when over-stimulated. "Well, it just got chalked up to bein' a punk ass kid." The kind of people willing to turn a blind eye to old Bill Spencer whaling on his kids weren't going to notice the clues, no matter how clear they were... which is all water under a bridge that's long since collapsed.

"Ten months, seventeen days from when I woke up with everything gone quiet," he clarifies. "An' nearly thirteen months from then 'til I got back some kind of control. Used my kid sister as an anchor for a long time, remindin' myself that I had t'keep my shit together so I could keep sendin' her checks. She's never been willing to take much, but back then she needed every penny of it. An' simple or hokey as it might seem? An old fashioned watch with a reliable movement, a hanky spritzed with the perfume I remember my mom wearin' when I was a kid.

"Those, uh, they stopped workin' so well over time, though," he adds, quieter, looking out the window at a cluster of tourists heading into the lobby. "It's been people for a while now. That an' keepin' to a routine as much as I can." And he's not going to mention how close to the edge he's been riding for a while now. How much harder it's been getting to keep it together, and how he can feel himself slipping. "Nothin' like havin' a Guide t'help, though."

Since it appears Eliot seems to know who he's talking about, Steve adds, "Hiro's dead. Wo Fat killed him not that long ago." They did have Wo Fat in prison but he'd made his escape not long after.

"Did you have any idea what you were? Or was it the military who figured it out for you and connected you to your first guide?" Thinking back, those were truly the worst days of his life. In a matter of a month, his mother died, his father separated him and his sister, sending him to boarding school, and he became this freak like science experiment. All Steve had wanted to do was be left alone and to play football, but instead he was matched with other cadets thought to have guide potential and run through special sentinel training that just made him want to hide away even more. There was no hiding though, and his pleas to his father to let him come home went unanswered.

Steve chewed on his bottom lip as Eliot explained his anchors. It was going to take some thought and serious consideration for him to come up with anchors of his own. Sentimental attachments weren't something he generally had. People were easier to manage if he kept them at arms length. Danny and Grace were the exception there but he was trying to distance himself from Danny and he didn't think it was appropriate for him to use Grace. Looking down at the watch on his wrist, a Kobold Phantom Black Ops Chronograph, that he got while he was in the SEALs is silent running by design. He makes a note to check his father's things in the attic. Maybe he has an old watch Steve could use.

"Having a good match in a guide does go a long way." He agrees, following Eliot's line of sight to the tourists. "Danny doesn't have the training but he makes up for it with instinct. And best of all he doesn't have the ulterior motives the guides we're used to dealing with do. It's been... refreshing not having to worry about those types of consequences." One of the tourists, a young boy screams and tries to pull away from his father. When he can't get away he starts throwing a tantrum, clearly overtired and in need of his bed. Steve winces at the noise and looks back at Eliot, these types of resorts aren't known for their serenity. "You going to be able to stay here? I can find you somewhere else if this is going to be a problem."

"Huh, okay." He's obviously been out of that particular loop if he missed that, but it's not as surprising these days as it would have been at one time.

"Not a fuckin' clue, man." He shrugs and decides to hell with it, he doesn't usually talk about it but the point of reference helps explain things. "Just thought my old man had beat me unconscious when I zoned out, an' the rest of the time... I think it came on gradual enough that there just wasn't any epiphany moment, didn't wake up one day with the world just too loud an' bright an' overwhelming."

He follows Steve's gaze for a moment, registering the way he's checking out the watch Eliot had already assessed as clearly unsuited for that particular technique. He doesn't say anything, though, if only because it's self-evident... and because the only other thing he could do would be to point out Steve doesn't need any of that, not when he has Danny at his beck and call.

Yeah, it's... it was hard t'buy that he didn't have an agenda at first," he admits, and he can't help the way his lips tick up into a fond smile, or how his voice softens, though he does at least look away. "No one's trained him t'think we're just dangerous attack dogs that need t'be kept under control at all costs."

He draws in a measured breath as the screaming cuts through his head, and his eyes slip shut for a moment as he lets the sound wash over him. "I'll manage, I'm used to it." To the stink of strangers and the astringent burn of commercial cleaners, the constant, oppressive noise of people and televisions, arguments and tantrums and sex and confessions. "Got ear plugs an' a white noise generator." Which isn't enough to block it all out, but he wouldn't be able to sleep at all if it did, he'd feel too vulnerable. "It'll get me a couple hours."

Steve makes a fist and his knuckles whiten at Eliot saying he was beaten as a child. That's one thing Steve has a very low tolerance for. It doesn't need to just be children, but women or animals, anyone who's vulnerable really, being attacked by someone who has power and authority over them. There's no benefit to remarking or questioning Eliot on it however so he lets it go. It's long in the past, there's nothing he can do for the other man now.

Instead he huffs out a breath. "I had one of those. The week leading up to it things had seemed brighter and I remember feeling more sensitive to noise and my cloths but nothing really 'sentinel' like either. Then during a game, I'm lining up my receiver, focused on the number on his chest as I'm about to throw the ball and something there caught my attention. Zoned out just before I got tackled." Steve shrugs. "I got lucky I guess, the coach had been taping the game so we could watch it after and you could see me zoning a couple seconds before I got hit. Otherwise they likely wouldn't have realized what happened." That thought makes him shudder. How long could he have laid in some hospital bed with people thinking he had a brain injury when what he really needed was a guide to help him find his way out of his head.

It's hard to hear Eliot's voice go soft and see the smile on his face knowing that they're for Danny, and Steve has to look away. At the same time, it's also reassuring. His decision to step back and out of the way for Danny and Eliot to make a go of whatever that was between them was and continued to be one of the more difficult things he's had to do. Certainly one of the most emotional. Logically he knows it's also the right thing to do. "At the same time it leaves him with a lack of understanding on what to expect as well. Although to be fair, everything I know came from the military or personal experience and just having you sitting here beside me is evidence that's not all correct either."

"If it wasn't for Grace being at the house, I'd take you there instead." A thought crosses his mind and he mulls it over a moment before offering. "It's not the most comfortable, but we have couches back at the office." There's nothing out that Eliot can get into without forcefully breaking into things, they make sure of that when they leave the office at night so there's no worry there. "I have the key to Danny's office, you could sleep there. It'd be private, quiet and you'd have his scent. No one should be in tomorrow."

Eliot doesn't miss the reaction, but he wouldn't have said anything if he'd expected Steve to take it any farther than that, and he's pleased (and unsurprised) to find he was right.

"Hell man, that could'a been ugly." Not just if it had been missed, but what a hard tackle could have done to him when he wasn't capable of defending himself. It's what's always terrified Eliot about zoning, ever since he learned what it actually was. He was lucky as a kid, he guesses, that even without a Guide Gift his little sister could always pull him back out, even if neither of them had ever realized it was more than helping him back to consciousness as she wiped away the blood and cried over him once their old man had passed out or gone back out to the bar. He wishes she hadn't had to do it, but he doesn't want to think what would have happened to him if she hadn't been there.

"Yeah, it's, uh... everything's not quite the way they try to condition you to believe. It's not easy, but-" He shakes his head and looks back at Steve, serious and intent. "It's a helluva lot better'n being in a cage or on a leash, just bein' let out when they wanna set you on something." And that's what it had been for him. He hadn't been an officer, hadn't been educated or had family or friends with any kind of pull. He'd been a piece of meat, a well-conditioned push-button murderer, and he's still trying to shrug that weight off his shoulders even now.

He's starting to look away again, reaching for the door to let himself out and go check into his own little slice of hell for the night, when Steve speaks again and his head swings back around, brows furrowed in as much surprise as he'll show. Other than the sudden trip-hammer beat of his heart that he can't quite get under control for a moment. That's not an offer he ever would have expected, especially after Danny'd told him about how upset Steve had been to learn about them getting together.

He should thank him but turn him down, shouldn't invade their personal space with his presence and his scent, no matter if Steve's offering, but- "You sure?" It's the best he can do, because the idea of it twisting into that spot behind his breastbone where he can feel the pull of an unformed bond, want and need, safety and comfort. "I don't wanna fuck things up for you."

"I've heard of Sentinels in that situation. Seen the aftermath of what they can do." Both in the carnage they leave behind them and creatures they become. Steve shakes his head at the thought. "It's not right. I don't know how we could ever change it, but it's not right." They had told him that some sentinels were no better than animals. That they needed to be harnessed and controlled because they were simply out of control on their own. Steve's experience wasn't quite like that, but then since they couldn't get him to bond with any of their guides, his situation wasn't like any other sentinel's.

He sees Eliot's reaction to his offer, can hear the other man's heartbeat kick up a notch and he can't help but smile. It always amuses him, at least a little bit, when he catches someone by surprise. When Eliot asks for confirmation, Steve starts the Camaro and pulls out of the parking spot. "I'm sure. You can stay there tonight and tomorrow and then you at the house after Grace goes home Sunday afternoon for however long your planning to be here for."

It takes a few moments for him to figure out what to say to the rest. He doesn't really want to explain that things with Danny could never go any further than they were, for so many reasons - him not being able to bond, Grace moving with Danny following, the Navy pulling him back to active duty. He knows one of those things will inevitably be the end but he also doesn't want Eliot rushing the timetable. At the same time he can't let the other man think that he's getting in the way either. He genuinely wants, even needs, things to work between Danny and Eliot. To know that Danny will be okay when he can't be around, that's more important to him than anything else.

Finally he shakes his head and shrugs. "There's nothing to fuck up." He tries to force optimism into his voice but the situation is still too fresh and he's not fully sure he's succeeded. "It's all good."

If Steve has seen that then he can probably understand why the Army was willing to simply let him go when it looked like he'd burned out: better to disclaim any connection than risk being associated with the carnage they'd used him to unleash. And why he'll never find any record of Eliot's service anywhere, his existence had been erased long before the Army felt the need to burn him and hang him out to dry. "They make us like that, then use it as proof we hafta be contained an' controlled." It eats at him, sometimes, the knowledge that they're still doing the same thing to kids as helpless and dependent as he'd been when they'd got their claws in him. But for all the anger and guilt he feels about it, it's not something he's willing to turn his team's attention to. The risks are too great and the likelihood of success almost non-existent.

He goes quiet for a moment, then looks over at Steve again as he starts the car and pulls out again. "Thanks." His voice has gone soft again, though this time with gratitude for a completely unlooked for kindness. The thought of being able to sleep surrounded by Danny's scent is settling in a way nothing else ever is, and even though he has two of the shirts Danny'd left behind balled up in ziplock bags in his luggage this will be infinitely better. Easier. And for all he knows that Steve's lying when he says it's good he can't bring himself to argue or turn him down. He wants it too much.

"You wanna talk through how t'go about this tonight, or get on it in the morning?" he asks instead.

It doesn't surprise Steve that the military would cut ties with those lost in action. He's well aware after all that if he was ever captured on any mission in a country he wasn't supposed to be in, the Navy would disavow him completely. Sentinel or not, he was still dispensable. The military molded him, and others like him, into what they needed them to be with little thought of who they were or what they may need. The worst part was, they were conditioned to go along with what was happening and not to fight against it. Being forced into a zone was part of training, it made him stronger. It wasn't necessarily abuse. No more than BUDs training was for every soldier that attempted to become a SEAL. He didn't like it but he believed them when they told him they were doing it for him. It hadn't been until he'd lost his abilities and started Five-O that he really started to realize all that had happened and how much it messed him up. You don't realize what you're missing until you see other people have things that you don't.

Offering Eliot a tight smile, Steve nods. "I get it. I'd rather sleep a night at the office than in a hotel room any day." And when Steve needed centering during the day, especially when Danny was away, he would spend a bit of time in his partner's office. It helped, so he has no doubt that it will also help Eliot.

With the argument he had with Danny last night, Steve didn't get any sleep out on the hammock. His mind too busy going over everything. Truth be told, he wasn't sure how much he'd be getting tonight either but he figured Eliot was likely also tired after spending six hours on a cramped plane with recycled air. "How about in the morning? I'll pick you up, say around seven and we'll go for breakfast and talk it out?"

"Yeah, I do enough traveling I've gotten used to them, but hotels are always a bitch." And he rarely sleeps even ninety minutes at a stretch in a strange bed with scratchy sheets permeated with strangers' scents, and the constant cacophony from all the rooms and halls surrounding him.

"Yeah, seven'll be good. I'll run you through the options for gettin' a DNA sample and gettin' it processed an' update you on whatever my partner's found by then on the husband an' his company then we can go from there."

"Sounds good. You need anything before we get there?" Once Steve lets him in there's not much there as far as amenities go. Danny has a pillow and blanket in his office, they all do, which Steve expects Eliot will prefer and he doesn't see Danny minding. "There's a vending machine in the hall that has soda, chips and chocolate bars. We have a locker room attached to the main office so you'll have access to a shower. But if you need anything else we should pick it up beforehand."

"Nah, I'm good. So long as I got running water and something to crash on that's all I need." Hell, he'd have been good without the shower, even. Sure hadn't been expecting it. He definitely won't be touching the vending machine, just the thought of the over-processed crap in it is vaguely nauseating.

Then Eliot has everything he needs. Pulling up to the Palace, Steve navigates them through the building and into the offices, unlocking the main Five-O office door in the process. "Locker rooms are over there," he points at the appropriate door as he heads to Danny's office. Unlocking the filing cabinet he retrieves the pillow and blanket from the top drawer and deposits them at the end of the leather couch that runs along the wall under the windows before closing the drawer and relocking the cabinet. He takes a second to close all the blinds to give Eliot a better sense of privacy.

"I'll lock you in on my way out. You can get out if you need to but that way you won't be disturbed. Only housekeeping, who has already gone through, and the four of us have keys. I don't expect Kono or Chin to be coming in at all tomorrow but I'm sure you know who they are if they do, just tell them to call me. You can lock Danny's office door as well if you want that extra sense of privacy."

If there's nothing else, Steve will leave him to his own devices for the night.

Eliot trails Steve in, memorizing the floor plan and assessing access points and choke points on the kind of autopilot you never unlearn once it's been ground in deep enough. The building's as full of strange scents as any other, but threaded through it is something warm and familiar, and once Steve opens up their private offices Danny's familiar scent thickens and deepens. There are others, yes, but not as many, and no acrid stink of industrial cleaning products used too often to try and sanitize a too public, too used space.

And then Steve's opening the door to Danny's office and he has to just stop and breathe for a moment as it washes over him, thick and warm and it's terrifying how it feels like home and safety. He forces himself into motion again as Steve collects a pillow and blanket and closes the blinds, setting his duffel down on a chair and hanging the garment bag over the back of it.

"Thanks, man, I really appreciate it." More than just escaping the noise and stink of the hotel.

Steve nods at the thanks. "Don't mention it. Sleep well." And with that he is backing out of Danny's office and heading out the door, taking a moment to lock the main doors and testing them. Back out in the Camaro, he sits for a moment thinking everything over before starting the car and heading back to the house. Danny should be asleep by the time he gets there and even if he wasn't he doesn't have the delicate sense of smell to notice that Eliot's in town.

The next morning starts as it normally does. Steve is up at the crack of dawn and heads out for his morning swim. Sleep didn't fully elude him but it was fitful and no where near as sound as he's used to getting. Back from his swim and out of the shower, Gracie is up watching early morning cartoons and Steve visits with her for a little bit before heading out to meet Eliot. He leaves a note for Danny that he has to go into the office for a bit to explain his absence.

The Palace is still quiet at 7am as Steve makes his way through and back up to Five-O's offices. He knocks on the outside door and noisily unlocks it to let Elliot know of his presence. There's no doubt the other man knows it's him and like picked him up as soon as he entered the building, but one can never be too careful.

Once Steve's gone, Eliot takes the time to shower off the stink of the plane and brush his teeth before getting dressed in fresh clothes, checking all the doors and windows, and going back to Danny's office to settle in. The whole room is permeated with Danny's scent, and even the fact that there are others mingled in (Steve's the only one he recognizes and easily the most prominent) doesn't change how viscerally comforting it is to Eliot.

Still, he takes a moment to dig out the bag he has one of Danny's shirts packed into and breathes deep for a moment. It's saturated not just with Danny's scent, but with his, the two thickly intermingled and threaded through with the thick musk of sex the and almost astringent scent of their mingled come. He doesn't take it out of the bag, he's not crass enough to leave that scent lingering in a room Steve will have to frequent, but he leaves the bag open nearby for the comfort of their mingled scents overlaying the thicker warmth of Danny's permeating the room. And then he curls under a blanket that smells like safety and home and his, and lays his head on a pillow that smells almost exactly the same, on a couch that's just as saturated with the same scent... and sleeps better than he has in over fifteen years.

_____________________________________

He's waiting in the main office when Steve gets there at seven, hair damp from another shower after starting the day with sit-ups, push-ups and some basic yoga: all he could manage while locked into the office. It's enough, though, especially considering how remarkably well-rested he is, and he looks up from where he's been reading Hardison's latest email on his laptop when he catches the sound of Steve's footsteps, then his heartbeat, entering the building.

He's already closing the computer and standing up, reaching for the garment bag he has slung over the back of one of the chairs when Steve knocks noisily and lets himself in. "Hey man, ready to get this show on the road?"

"Good morning," he says in lieu of greeting, "I am." As it appears Eliot is too, Steve holds open the door than locks it behind him before heading back down to the car. Steve still has the Camaro. He left his truck keys out for Danny if he and Grace needed or wanted to go anywhere.

While Steve is determined to adjust to having Eliot in his life, especially his scent, he needs to have some place that's as Eliot free until that adjustment sets in. The easiest place he could come up with is his truck. Danny barely gets in it as it is and they don't use it for work. Even secondary scent should be faint to nonexistent there. For right now, in person, he added fresh Vicks under his nose this morning.

"How'd ya sleep? Couch not too uncomfortable?" Because really, Eliot looks like he slept fairly well. Certainly better than Steve.

"Slept great. You guys got a good furniture budget, that couch is better than probably eighty percent of hotel mattresses I've ever slept on." Though, really, Danny's scent is what did it. He probably would have slept just as well on cold concrete so long as he was surrounded by the warmth of Danny's scent.

"My partner sent me some more information this morning. A couple options for getting in to collect DNA, and some good leads for putting pressure on the husband. You were right about Noshimuri, man, good call."

Steve can't help but laugh at that. He's slept on those couches and knows that their comfort is secondary to their looks. "You need to start sleeping in a better class of hotel," he jokes but he knows that it was Danny's scent as well. It's what does it for Steve when he sleeps too.

"Can't say I'm surprised, but I am disappointed." After the commissioner, Steve had really hoped that Stan had learned his lesson and shaped up, but Steve expected that Stan was a businessman first. His integrity and morals came second. "At the same time I'm thankful we have something to use. How are you thinking about getting the DNA?"

Back outside the Palace, Steve unlocks the doors of the Camaro and gets into the driver's seat. "You like pancakes?"

"Most times I do, these days," he answers, eyebrows and lips both twitching up a little. "Still never gonna be ideal, though." Which Steve obviously knows.

"Yeah, well, businessmen... even the supposedly decent ones'll get into some pretty questionable shit if the payoff's big enough. No proof the husband's actually involved personally, but there's shit goin' on that'd tank his career if it came out. And so far it looks like none of it's bad enough that sittin' on it's doin' more'n screwing over some other big competitors an' the tax code. Hardison's diggin' 'round to make sure, though." Because they're not going to let innocent folks get trampled underfoot to suit themselves if it comes to it.

He hoists up the garment bag before leaning in to hang it in the back of the Camaro. "Mr. an' Mrs. Edwards might have an unfortunate problem with their security system today, need a service tech t'come out an' take a look at things for them."

"I hear you there," Steve says in agreement.

"It's understandable too. Noshimuri owns a good chunks of this island. Most of it is a front though for Yakuza business. We've managed to tighten down on some of it but I'm sure you know how it goes." It's frustrating how there's always seems to be another but Steve knows they're making progress as well. "Now that Hiro's dead though I'm not sure Stan wanting off the island is fully a coincidence." It almost seems like the timing is too perfect.

"Well it's a good thing there's one in the neighborhood." He smiles at that plan. It will certainly get Eliot into the house with good reason. Hopefully the housekeeper doesn't follow him around like a puppy. "I can get you a white van from impound if you want one. Won't have the company logo, but that will likely go unnoticed."

"Yeah, that might line up a little too well," Eliot agrees. "We'll see what else my buddy finds, but it's not soundin' like the kinda thing he can walk away from unscathed." So he shouldn't be able to squirm away, and if Rachel's committed to the lifestyle she married into... and hopefully to the man she married, for that matter, well, it sounds like it should be enough to get them what they need.

"Yeah, handy how that's workin' out for them today, isn't it?" His return smile's decidedly predatory. "That'd make things easier, but if there's a chance it'd come back to bite you on the ass, Hardison's got a line on a place I could rent one... an' if we call this plan a go, he might already have a magnetized logo ready for me t'pick up at a local shop." If anything, his smile stretches farther at that.

"Good! I wonder how he's going to take finding out that Charlie's not his..." For all Steve knows, the other man is already aware and doesn't care. Danny is an exception to fatherly concern as far as Steve is concerned. "Not that I'm all that concerned if it causes issues in their marriage. Rachel's gotten used to living the lifestyle, I'm sure she'll do what she can to keep it." Steve's about to say they'll go for full-time custody of the kids, but he stops himself. That's not his place. Instead he asks, "You like kids?"

Steve looks over at Eliot with a raised eyebrow. "You don't cut any corners!" Not that he's complaining. The grin on Eliot's face tells him that the man enjoys his work and gets a good deal of satisfaction out of. He has no trouble understanding why if it's all about sticking it to people who get away with more than they should. His eyes move back to the road. "It shouldn't be a problem for me to get the van. Especially if I promise I'm not going to blow this one up." He smiles himself at that. Maybe he shouldn't but he's quite proud of his reputation.

Coming around a corner he pulls into a small diner with a sign over the door that screams 'mom and pop shop'. "It doesn't look like much," he juts his chin out towards the building, "but they cook everything from scratch and without a lot of oils and extras. It's one of the few places I can eat without either dialing my sense of taste down to nothing or getting sick after."

"So long as it doesn't fuck over Danny, I gotta admit I don't much care either," Eliot admits, voice tight. "Just wanna make sure he gets to be a father to his kids." Eliot's barely known Danny over a week and it's already clear how much he adores his little girl, and how important fatherhood is to him, the fact his ex is denying him the right to be a father to his son is indefensible.

"Kids?" Eliot shrugs a little, refusing to read into the question. "Yeah. I mean, I haven't spent a lot of time around them, but I like them well enough. Even wanted a couple once upon a time." Back before he'd realized that there was no way in hell he could have anything like a normal life. Before he'd become a monster.

"Yeah, well, about ninety percent of sellin' a con is gettin' the details right. Little details'll niggle at someone, make them suspicious." And this needs to go off smooth on the first try. "Blow it up? Seriously?" Eliot snorts in amusement. "Yeah, lets try an' avoid that."

He looks at their destination and nods. "Some of the best food I've had all over the world's been little hole in the wall places. Don't need t'be fancy t'be good." Especially with their built in biases and limitations. "I can eat just about anything if I have to-" And he's had to more times than he likes to remember. "But fresh and unprocessed is definitely my go to when I get a choice. This place sounds perfect."

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