So the boys ogled each other, and Hawkeye felt increasingly more uncomfortable.
It was a simple question and the pair had kept up with him so well so far. He was about to open his mouth and say something about the afterlife, though he wasn't sure what that would be, when Maximus' voice broke through and Hawkeye wouldn't dare call Wyatt a liar any longer, even if he wasn't sure he was ever going to. The word 'victor' is new to him. Some day soon he'd learn it was a title worth having. He just found himself stepping back at the not-too-shocking revelation, some spur of self-preservation insisting he do so.
He could argue about the worth of surviving when survival didn't mean living, but he wouldn't believe it himself. The final comment, shushed and direct, finds him looking at the marshal. He still couldn't fully believe it. Henry Fonda? Here? All deliberate stupidity aside, it was difficult to think of the pair of men as being as intelligent as they were. It's just what happens when so much makes so little sense. That old dilemma about shooting the messenger, the poor bastard. "And everybody would be happier if nobody murdered each other, but that's never stopped humanity before." He counters, figuring a second after that he didn't quite catch the hidden meaning. "And speaking of standing," and here he took another step back and felt his nerves start to run again. He addressed the general. "I sneaked a peek when you were walking. Great legs. Holding you OK? It's my job to know, so don't get any ideas to lob my head off. Does your buddy know? Support system, and all."
no subject
It was a simple question and the pair had kept up with him so well so far. He was about to open his mouth and say something about the afterlife, though he wasn't sure what that would be, when Maximus' voice broke through and Hawkeye wouldn't dare call Wyatt a liar any longer, even if he wasn't sure he was ever going to. The word 'victor' is new to him. Some day soon he'd learn it was a title worth having. He just found himself stepping back at the not-too-shocking revelation, some spur of self-preservation insisting he do so.
He could argue about the worth of surviving when survival didn't mean living, but he wouldn't believe it himself. The final comment, shushed and direct, finds him looking at the marshal. He still couldn't fully believe it. Henry Fonda? Here? All deliberate stupidity aside, it was difficult to think of the pair of men as being as intelligent as they were. It's just what happens when so much makes so little sense. That old dilemma about shooting the messenger, the poor bastard. "And everybody would be happier if nobody murdered each other, but that's never stopped humanity before." He counters, figuring a second after that he didn't quite catch the hidden meaning. "And speaking of standing," and here he took another step back and felt his nerves start to run again. He addressed the general. "I sneaked a peek when you were walking. Great legs. Holding you OK? It's my job to know, so don't get any ideas to lob my head off. Does your buddy know? Support system, and all."