"What is that?" Steve demanded as he drove.
Danny made a face. "What does it look like? It's a handkerchief."
"Nobody carries those anymore," Steve countered.
"Nobody? Nobody? Hello!" He waved from the passenger seat.
"Well nobody under the age of eighty."
"So now I'm not only 'nobody', I'm old too?"
"I'm just sayin'."
"No. Real men? Real men wear ties, boxers, and carry handkerchiefs."
Steve scoffed. "'Real men'? What the hell does that-"
Danny lifted the handkerchief to his nose.
"You're not going to-"
He blew. Hard. Then he drew it back to have a look. The snot was yellow-green. Fun.
Steve's expression morphed into disgust. "You're inspecting it. Do you know how wrong that is?"
Danny didn't bother to hide his smirk. He proceeded then to fold it up in order to put it away.
"What? You're going to save it for later?"
"What do you want me to do with it? I could leave it here in the car."
His partner shot him a look of contempt.
"So I take it home and wash it."
"No. You take it home and burn it."
Danny paused. "Why are you so uptight about this?"
"I am not uptight."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"You're just saying you disagree."
"Yes."
"Okay. I can handle that."
A silence settled between them that lasted for miles. It was Steve who finally broke it.
"Real men use Kleenex."