He nods. Like it makes sense to him. Like it's relevant to anything at all. Like he'll ever see where the capitol of this new place is, like he cares one bit about half the things that have come from the woman's mouth. But she's still behind the tree and Hawkeye's still standing where he had stopped to converse. That's what this is. A conversation. Because before he can wonder about whether or not he should believe her, he's asking "Where's the food?"
Again, loud.
If they were closer, maybe he wouldn't feel the need to shout. If he wasn't starving, maybe he wouldn't feel the need to shout -though months at the 4077th held evidence to the contrary. Maybe- Christ, what's the wrong about it? Maybe he just felt comfortable being loud- and who the hell could say he shouldn't be? "You can come out from there. I won't try any funny business if you don't." Which is contrary to every fiber of his being, but dire circumstances called for the sacrifice. "Are there ribs? I would k-" Nuh-no. No, he wouldn't. Slip of his tongue, his bad. He holds up a hand again. Apologies. Sorry. Continuing now. And he even lowers his voice. "I can eat a horse." And he shouldn't be attempting to cling on to decency but the fact that he hadn't been attacked yet did wonders to a miserable spirit. If this was a trap, it sure was working. "You don't know this, but I had a horse once. And a Howitzer. I poured cement down one's throat and gave the other away to a nice farmer." Guess which was which. He should stop talking, but the woman hadn't tried to kill him yet-- wasn't that something? Wasn't it exciting? If he can keep talking until he can coax her out, it'll be a victory. He needs more of those today.
no subject
Again, loud.
If they were closer, maybe he wouldn't feel the need to shout. If he wasn't starving, maybe he wouldn't feel the need to shout -though months at the 4077th held evidence to the contrary. Maybe- Christ, what's the wrong about it? Maybe he just felt comfortable being loud- and who the hell could say he shouldn't be? "You can come out from there. I won't try any funny business if you don't." Which is contrary to every fiber of his being, but dire circumstances called for the sacrifice. "Are there ribs? I would k-" Nuh-no. No, he wouldn't. Slip of his tongue, his bad. He holds up a hand again. Apologies. Sorry. Continuing now. And he even lowers his voice. "I can eat a horse." And he shouldn't be attempting to cling on to decency but the fact that he hadn't been attacked yet did wonders to a miserable spirit. If this was a trap, it sure was working. "You don't know this, but I had a horse once. And a Howitzer. I poured cement down one's throat and gave the other away to a nice farmer." Guess which was which. He should stop talking, but the woman hadn't tried to kill him yet-- wasn't that something? Wasn't it exciting? If he can keep talking until he can coax her out, it'll be a victory. He needs more of those today.