Which would normally spark a conversation (lecture) about boundaries, but this one time... it was okay.

Because that phone wasn't at the office anymore, no no. It was somehow shown in real time going toward the docks. Where were the docks? Were there even docks in Baltimore? Didn't matter. There were docks where filming took place.

Wrong Steve!

Well, it was safe to say that Danny wouldn't be going into a warehouse that had an actually decent perimeter established by people with only slightly visible ear pieces, right? Not without reason. They were much better put together than the other people they'd busted here.

Danny was shoved out of the van, his hands having been tied and a stupid hood tossed over his head. And, would you believe this wasn't even the first time it'd happened to him? Would you?

He was shuffled into the warehouse before anyone nearby could catch sight of him. Well, unless they were there for plot related reasons. In which case, it was very much in the line of sight.

You know, it really was!

Danny was shoved into a chair and then tied to it before the hood was finally yanked off and he squinted at the sudden influx of light again. "We really doin' this?" he demanded.

"Apologies for the circumstances, Detective Williams," designated bossman of the operation said, taking the chair across from Danny. Really, the seat up was a lot like every single black site the show ever had in it an interrogation room.

"Oh, apologies," Danny said dryly, straining a little against the restraints. For once in his life he was hoping Steve was being paranoid.

Anyone who touched the hair deserved whatever they got.

"We needed to have a talk away from prying eyes, let's say," the guy said, looking over some papers withing a manila folder. "Since you seem to be hell bent on not allowing the BPD to do their job."

"This is a shakedown?" Danny asked, sighing like he really had better things to be doing with his time.

Oh, they were totally prepared for that possibility. Because, surprise, Steve! There were totally some normal and perfectly accurate intelligence analysts in another part of the warehouse. And some more of those ice cream trucks.

What was the goal? The writers didn't know until the last minute, so neither would you.

"This is a conversation about... walking away," their new villainous buddy said, spreading his hands like that would help encourage him to go along to get along.

He knew nothing about one Daniel Williams.

"Walking away from what exactly?" Danny asked, eyes darting around the place to take it all in.

Just some normal Hawaii things. In Maryland.

The guy with the gun pointed at him went still for a moment before making a leap for the door and shouting, "Intruder!"

Which drew the attention of almost everyone around where Danny was sitting. "If you wanted a chat, the hood and the getting tied up was a bad choice. Because, you see? My partner's a lil' paranoid about this stuff."

"There's no need for any of this," the boss-man said, immediately standing up to try heading an angry SEAL off at the pass. Would it work? The answer might surprise you.

...it wouldn't. That was the surprise.

"Sort of re-thinking the micro-chipping thing," Danny admitted dryly.

"Detaining," Lead Henchdude replied. "Something you should know all about."

Which was why Danny sighed loudly and stared up at the ceiling. "Oh my god, you're spooks."

Well, the guy was pretty shady looking.

"You don't understand what you're messing up for us here," the newly revealed CIA boss man sighed. "Years of work. All because you pissed off some lizard smugglers."

"They're an invasive species," Danny deadpanned from his spot behind the guy. Still tied to that chair.

"I don't care who started it," their buddy said, sounding very much like an annoyed kindergarten teacher. "You both need to stop."

Danny just shot Steve A Look for that one.