Why is he at a crime scene. And why isn't he, at the very least, bleeding? Didn't he just crash through a windshield?

The cop's saying something about undercover missions and a string of robberies and, honestly, it's all coming out as a bit of a garble. Daniel stammers a hasty excuse and gets an insistence to just wait for the ambulance, sir, but ducks around the back of one of the cars the minute the other man turns his back.

He takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe and try to get his heartrate down from its terrified patter, but the thud of someone inside the police car apparently ramming themselves against the door promptly makes him jump.

He shoots a furtive look over his shoulder. Everyone seems preoccupied with retrieving the armed man from the crashed car. He tries the door, but it's locked. Well, of course.

Detective, the cop said. That's a strange thought. But he slips his hand into his pocket and, sure enough, is rewarded with the bright clink of keys.

He puts the first one he sees into the door, and it opens with a soft clunk. Huh.

"Wh - um, do I, uh, do I know you?" he says weakly.