It's either getting pistol-whipped in the head or the blood loss that's making him dizzy.

Red gushes like from a broken dam, turning his grey slacks dark. The damage is minimal, except he's sure the femoral artery gets nicked. His hands too numb to reach and press down. Nothing he can do except watching it pours from his leg.

It's fucking a hundred and four outdoor but he's shivering like January in Jersey without heat.

Steve would've heard the shot. He'd come investigate. He needs to.

Danny has mere minutes left and he hopes to - doesn't want to - say goodbye.