"Not a football guy? Hm, okay. I mean I guess no one is anymore. Good ole pre-war sportsball."

Deacon is not surprised that Danse catches it easily, and would celebrate more, except he's absolutely exhausted now both physically and mentally, and as he escapes through the steam and when Danse grabs him, he thinks he might fall right into his arms. He manages to stay upright, a lazy smile on his features as Danse speaks again.

"Sure you could've," he replies, finding a spot against the wall to slide down and give himself a little break. "But I'm happy to have done something right, today. Now if you don't mind, I think I'm going to sit here until I remember what limbs are supposed to feel like. They've either become jelly or I'm turning into some kind of fish, too."