[A gun? Why gee willikers, and here Hawkeye had had no idea
he grits his teeth some, winces, and only has enough time to (try) to school himself not to flinch like a farm kid on the front lines when Blondie makes his big move. Instinct has him hunch his shoulders, lean what he can of his rangy body over the flesh-hole of this one dying sucker (yeah, definitely dying. shouldn't be long now, really. everything that oughta be pumping away steadily is slowing, slowing--) as if contamination was a threat.
To be perfectly fair, there's nothing saying that it isn't.
All Hawkeye can hear is movement and a thud, a sack of meat hitting floor, and] Is he-- why did you--
[Made perfect sense.
It's Stupid, how much it hurts and how much his throat constricts at common sense consequences. And yes, Stupid must be capitalized.] I-- I. [Give him a swift kick in the ego, why don't ya, and just start clucking.]
I don't know; I'm just a dumb doctor, they don't teach us how to think. [How to knock out, disarm, disassemble, how to bring the Korean war theater to Deerington, Maine.
He hates this waiting game of warm turning lukewarm under his palms, but he'll deal so long as the skin on the body (that's what it is by this point, anyway, so there's no need to bother with Worry and Words and Names, he tries to tell himself) gets tighter, clammier. Like a vulture, but it's old news to be one, and Hawkeye lets out a frustrated noise of his own- short and one step removed from a yelp. Pained.] I don't know, okay? I just said it. I don't-- I don't
[Shoot him, please, really, truly, honestly, if he brings carpet bombing to Deerington, Maine.] Is he going to be okay? Are you?
no subject
he grits his teeth some, winces, and only has enough time to (try) to school himself not to flinch like a farm kid on the front lines when Blondie makes his big move. Instinct has him hunch his shoulders, lean what he can of his rangy body over the flesh-hole of this one dying sucker (yeah, definitely dying. shouldn't be long now, really. everything that oughta be pumping away steadily is slowing, slowing--) as if contamination was a threat.
To be perfectly fair, there's nothing saying that it isn't.
All Hawkeye can hear is movement and a thud, a sack of meat hitting floor, and] Is he-- why did you--
[Made perfect sense.
It's Stupid, how much it hurts and how much his throat constricts at common sense consequences. And yes, Stupid must be capitalized.] I-- I. [Give him a swift kick in the ego, why don't ya, and just start clucking.]
I don't know; I'm just a dumb doctor, they don't teach us how to think. [How to knock out, disarm, disassemble, how to bring the Korean war theater to Deerington, Maine.
He hates this waiting game of warm turning lukewarm under his palms, but he'll deal so long as the skin on the body (that's what it is by this point, anyway, so there's no need to bother with Worry and Words and Names, he tries to tell himself) gets tighter, clammier. Like a vulture, but it's old news to be one, and Hawkeye lets out a frustrated noise of his own- short and one step removed from a yelp. Pained.] I don't know, okay? I just said it. I don't-- I don't
[Shoot him, please, really, truly, honestly, if he brings carpet bombing to Deerington, Maine.] Is he going to be okay? Are you?