Daniel was distracted by the lack of ceiling--he was still plagued by the ongoing possibility that he might fall upward into the sky, a vast emptiness that had never seemed so large before. He tried not to look at it. Her arm warm against his side helped; he tried not to cling and focused on her words. The crack about copyright got a smile out of him. He was a writer after all. "As if the man doesn't have enough problems," he murmured, in reference to Vlad.
His muscles relaxing against her arm was obvious even through the thick winterwear the moment they moved into the garage, which he seemed to find interesting if his inspection of the place was any judge. Eventually the light did flash, and Daniel followed rather than guided in that direction. He did not think to be impressed by the car. Too much money to begin with. "I am worried they will go after him," he confided, as he left her side to go around to the passenger side.