Dan doesn't have an opinion on Pride. Dan doesn't consider himself anything in particular, feeling as if he's just what he is and if people think assigning words to him - gay, straight, pansexual, male, female, whatever - helps them figure him out, then that's both their business and their prerogative. It doesn't bother him, but it doesn't particularly resonate with him. He's a person for whom looking like a man is convenient and privileging, who intermittently works at gay bars but sleeps with any consenting adult who offers, who cares more about the joyful oblivion of mutual satisfaction than he does about the shape his partners take, who mostly schlubs it in t-shirts and hoodies but looks great in women's jeans, and people will make of that what they will, and he won't stop them.

Dan doesn't have an opinion on Pride, but he does have an opinion on partying, and the combination of colorful cocktails and cake are a siren song to call him from the firing range in the training center, where he's been calming his mind from how pissed off he is over the happenings with Planker. He's not surprised to see Price there, because Price tends to end up places where he'll interact with others, which Dan assumes is because even people who compulsively burn their bridges like Price and Mac need social contact and community. But he is a bit surprised to see Price picking over the pins, because the Counselor doesn't seem the type to want to firmly stake claim on an identity.

"Counselor. Having a nice time?" Dan's mixing up his Blue Hawaiian with the knife used to cut the sheetcake, hoping that the sugar in the frosting sweetens the drink; he's got slashes of glitter across his cheeks and a burgeoning hickie from having made out with a Jorg mechanic in a hall closet a few minutes ago.