Deacon shrugs, biting his tongue for once in regards to Danse's skillset, but the part about trusting the others is something he finds intriguing. Deacon doesn't know that he can trust anyone, and that includes Danse in some regards, but if Danse is being honest here, it's really throwing him off.

"You can't trust everyone," he mutters into his cigarette, his voice straining before his inhale. It's a hard truth about life, and one lesson he might instill on Danse yet. Or would be if the other man wasn't staring at that mug like a confused dog. Deacon's eyes follow Danse's to the insane slogan on their makeshift ashtray and huffs out a brief laugh, shaking his head.

"Don't look at me. I just got here."