"See, you? You I like," Danny says, wondering how much of this is a strange blood-loss-fuelled hallucination that he's painted up for himself. Maybe he wants a perfect version of Steve in his life who appreciates New York and New Jersey and who pays for drinks and thinks gunshot wounds are a big deal. "You're something, you know?" he exhales the words, like he's actually marveling at this Not-Steve named Larry.