He watched the man's body-language. Danny knew non-verbal queues and they were literally pouring off of May - it didn't help this guy's attempted nonchalant image that Danny was exceptionally good at reading people. Nervous, on edge. Lying, maybe. Certainly wary.
"Taylor. Danny Taylor." He supplied, holding his hand out, "Nice to meet you, Stanley." He said easy as anything as though it wasn't strange to know this man's name when they'd never met.
He took a sip of his Martini, eyes on Stanley over the top of his glass waiting for his reaction. Already scenting one helluva story.