It would be jarring if it were the first time. --the change of attitude in both, turning from spite to this, not the information exchanged. He'd learn to understand her words better, he knew. He hoped he wouldn't, though. Holiday had slowed to almost echo his own footsteps and Hawkeye wasn't sure if he was grateful for the show of sympathy or insulted. It'd be easy to be insulted and he could tailor himself a reason right out of the blue to give his mind a game to play. It'd also be wrong and so for a moment he lets the silence sit and he's aware again of the noises of the jungle. There's chirping and a squeal that was a long way off. There was the buzzing of insects- of something else too- and the eerie thuds and thumps of moving things which can't be seen.
The smile stays. It's lazy but not unwanted.
"Ah, Rebecca." He draws out the affirming noise, letting his mouth open so he looks like a panting dog for that one moment. "I knew a Rebecca once. Nice girl. Always a holiday with her. She'd tell me to shut up, too, all the time." Story-telling, but short. He changes his expression with near every sentence, rises and lowers the pitch of his voice. Moves his hands. "But that was so her roommates wouldn't find out. Nice girl. Decided to throw a slipper at my head instead of a boot once." He pauses, thinks about digging out his dog tags and decides against it. He's positively cheerful. Talking about the most mundane things! It would be jarring if it weren't the first time. "Well, on my birth certificate it says 'Benjamin Franklin' but everyone calls me Hawkeye. And I mean everybody- back home, too. It's from my old man's favorite book. Last of the Mohicans."
They were looking for food for starving children, he was exercising his ability to keep relatively quiet, she was exercising her patience more likely than not (bless her), and he was explaining his name with such pleasure. Funny and almost disrespectful if you thought about it.
"Pair it with 'Pierce' and uh, I don't know, it's snazzy. Calling everybody by their last names only is just too formal. I couldn't do it. Their first names, too. Some of them are just plain hideous." Here's looking at you, Walter. And still, the only footsteps he could hear were his and the woman's.
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The smile stays. It's lazy but not unwanted.
"Ah, Rebecca." He draws out the affirming noise, letting his mouth open so he looks like a panting dog for that one moment. "I knew a Rebecca once. Nice girl. Always a holiday with her. She'd tell me to shut up, too, all the time." Story-telling, but short. He changes his expression with near every sentence, rises and lowers the pitch of his voice. Moves his hands. "But that was so her roommates wouldn't find out. Nice girl. Decided to throw a slipper at my head instead of a boot once." He pauses, thinks about digging out his dog tags and decides against it. He's positively cheerful. Talking about the most mundane things! It would be jarring if it weren't the first time. "Well, on my birth certificate it says 'Benjamin Franklin' but everyone calls me Hawkeye. And I mean everybody- back home, too. It's from my old man's favorite book. Last of the Mohicans."
They were looking for food for starving children, he was exercising his ability to keep relatively quiet, she was exercising her patience more likely than not (bless her), and he was explaining his name with such pleasure. Funny and almost disrespectful if you thought about it.
"Pair it with 'Pierce' and uh, I don't know, it's snazzy. Calling everybody by their last names only is just too formal. I couldn't do it. Their first names, too. Some of them are just plain hideous." Here's looking at you, Walter. And still, the only footsteps he could hear were his and the woman's.