[The guy's got a good, solid laugh, and Hawkeye's fairly sure that's number two or three in as many quips thrown between them, so he'll take it as a compliment and nearly preen. He hasn't got the energy for it, the alcohol making him wonderfully sluggish.
Newspapers, huh? At least the question answers the question of whether or not the people of Deerington are educated in these matters, political, and the answer to that question (got a twisted tongue yet?) is 'no'. Red, white, and blue, and yellow... and red again, and a splash of a lighter purple hue makes Hawkeye take another drink from his bottle, and the bottom-weight of it is telling him he's running low on the elixir of life.] You could say that. [Shame-- about the bottle, that is. He could stomach five more, he swears it. Hawkeye wonders vaguely what his excuse will end up being to convince himself to make it happen.
He mirrors Shiro- a hand runs through his own hair, already mussed and messed, and his voice carries the irreverent desperation that is his private, personal, signature brand.] Drinking, drunk, what's the difference, anyway? I already know you're not gonna listen.
[He'd said 'no thanks' to the News, not that he wanted it 'saved for down the road'.
It's killing him. He really wants to ask about that prosthetic-- it seemed actually useful. He can't.] Or maybe I just won't remember, anyway. Wouldn't be the first time.
no subject
Newspapers, huh? At least the question answers the question of whether or not the people of Deerington are educated in these matters, political, and the answer to that question (got a twisted tongue yet?) is 'no'. Red, white, and blue, and yellow... and red again, and a splash of a lighter purple hue makes Hawkeye take another drink from his bottle, and the bottom-weight of it is telling him he's running low on the elixir of life.] You could say that. [Shame-- about the bottle, that is. He could stomach five more, he swears it. Hawkeye wonders vaguely what his excuse will end up being to convince himself to make it happen.
He mirrors Shiro- a hand runs through his own hair, already mussed and messed, and his voice carries the irreverent desperation that is his private, personal, signature brand.] Drinking, drunk, what's the difference, anyway? I already know you're not gonna listen.
[He'd said 'no thanks' to the News, not that he wanted it 'saved for down the road'.
It's killing him. He really wants to ask about that prosthetic-- it seemed actually useful. He can't.] Or maybe I just won't remember, anyway. Wouldn't be the first time.