[ Even if Danse doesn't entirely feel like himself here, it's freeing, the sensation ever so slightly giddy. If he remembered stalking criminals through the back alleys of Goodneighbor at the side of "the Silver Shroud," trying to contain his laughter at her ridiculous voice and throwing in a few ad-libbed lines of his own as the loyal sidekick, it would feel like that--but even without the concrete memory, the sense of it remains, that rare exciting momentum of improvisation. ]
Don't sell yourself short.
[ His voice is low, deliberate. His gaze tracks immediately down to Len's lips at that bite, before he drags it back up to resume that eye contact. Asleep or awake, he's still an open book, but it doesn't make him feel vulnerable here. ]
no subject
Don't sell yourself short.
[ His voice is low, deliberate. His gaze tracks immediately down to Len's lips at that bite, before he drags it back up to resume that eye contact. Asleep or awake, he's still an open book, but it doesn't make him feel vulnerable here. ]
I could've just left when you were done.