Daniel wasn't slick. He opened up the door and climbed in, sinking heavily into the seat. He felt nauseous. The nerves and the anxiety eating away at him. Part of him wanted nothing more than to drag Peter back to their room, lock the door and hide away from the rest of the world until Peter felt okay. And part of him wanted to hunt down Tommy and Dutch and kick ten shades of shit out of them.
His hands were shaking as he reached for the steering wheel and started up the car.