"Maybe that's what accounts for the shape of this vehicle," he mutters. "The previous owner rendered it necessary to compensate for something." This is the funniest he ever gets, Deacon. He's still going to shift uncomfortably in his chair, because he did not ask for the mental image that's now living in his head.

It's a distraction from the more serious advice, and the thing is that Danse doesn't disagree with it. He knows Deacon means it. He knows why Deacon means it. It would be sage advice in the general wasteland, and maybe it still is here, too--Danse doesn't know everyone in the convoy as well as he probably should by now, and some of them might be deeply unsavory characters. But he still can't take it to heart the way he's meant to.

"I know I can't let my guard down around everyone. But paranoia has served me far worse here than giving the benefit of the doubt would have. I've learned that the hard way. And when I have needed assistance, there's always been someone willing to provide it. That's what I meant when I said that people cooperate well here. If anyone's doing it for some ulterior motive, that hasn't been evident."