Daniel's eyes wanted to cross from trying to figure out just what the hell the man had said in the first place, and he was the linguist here! The gist, he guessed, was that the Tribute didn't get the very clear, very pointed message Daniel had been trying to drive in with all the subtlety of a staff blast. He pinched at the bridge of his nose, feeling what was most likely the beginning of a migraine; cause, this guy. And if the Tribute kept up like this, Daniel might be put into an early grave from frustration.

He frowned at him, eyebrows coming together. Excuse me? Daniel took the food anyway, digging in, then after a moment, saved half for later. Chances were, the sponsors weren't going to throw gifts at him like they might to the other guy. "Believe me. You're not my type."

Daniel cradled other man's's hands in his, one hand nestled under the other. And keeping the Tribute's hand over his, hiding the fingers of his right hand from view, Daniel began to trace letters into the underside of the Tribute's palm with a forefinger. The letters were clearly written, slow enough that even the Tribute should read it, and pressed into the skin of his palm. S.H.U.T..... U.P. he spelled out.

"I'll pretend I understood a word of that. Sure you didn't sprain something on your fall?" Daniel pretended to look in concern at his hand. C.A.M.E.R.A, He spelled out. "My name is Daniel by the way. Since you saved my life and all, and it's better than calling you 'hey-you' or something."