thearena | (open) Attention, all personnel. There's a loon on the loose.

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(open) Attention, all personnel. There's a loon on the loose.

Who| Hawkeye and the unlucky who run into him
What| A crash course and a sorry welcome
Where| Heading southeast though he hasn't gotten far from the Cornucopia
When| Tail end of week 2
Warnings/Notes| Can't think of any now, but I'll update as needed

It's been a... day? One day? Had everything really happened in only one day? They could have had the goat. But did they listen to him? No. Their loss. He's long since tucked the dog tags into his shirt to keep them from sounding his presence with every step. Now all he had to worry about was him sounding his presence with every step. Twigs and leaves and mud and bugs-- it was their loss, you know. They could have had the goat. It would be quieter, possibly. --Ha! Nah. Hawkeye knew goats. You know, unfortunately. They weren't quiet, no. So that's one thing to take pride in, and he'll take any ridiculous opportunity to boast. He's quieter than a goat. He's also sweatier than one. And if he finds one, just randomly in the middle of the jungle, he'd like to eat it. It'd be like lamb, but maybe with a more wild, tangy taste. Tougher meat, but he'd still love it. Or maybe 'love' was too strong a word. He'd like it. He'd appreciate it. He's hungry. He's just so damn hungry. And so much for trying to be quiet, all non-existent survival instinct and training showing off now in his supposed time of need. There are sounds in the jungle, but Hawkeye hates to think how easy it is to distinguish between what steps belonged in the setting and which didn't. His didn't. His steps had already landed him in danger. He had already been captured by that... that one guy. He had high tailed it out of sight the second the swap was made. A prisoner exchange except he'd been the only prisoner. More than leaving with just a wounded pride -what kind of guy sets foot in a trap so soon after being labeled game?- his confidence, not that he'd had any to begin with, well... well, shit, that sure was shot. And all the while after, all he could admit to thinking was 'well, prisoner exchanges are nothing new'. And 'that went well'. And 'one day I might get used to almost dying'.

He titters. He can't hear anyone else around. His legs hurt, his stomach hurts. Maybe he should have taken calisthenics more seriously. Just maybe. There's a pole. A rod. To his left. "Uh huh."

And there's another to his right. He has no idea what they do. Are they radio towers? He didn't have a radio, so it wouldn't be worth the while to figure it out. What a lousy design! Ruin the majestic moss and rubble, all radiating green, by sticking two poles just there. "I take back what I said," he declares, again, to nothing. "I don't- I don't like this. You could have at least disguised them as trees." The rods were just there! They really messed with the atmosphere of the place.

They really helped drive the point home that he was going to die.

A death in a jungle would be, to a point, normal. Plenty of people wandered off into the wilderness, got lost. Were never found. A jungle was wild- who could blame it if it got a little hungry now and then? But this was man-made. Altered, at the very least. A planned death, one the unsuspecting sap doesn't know the day or cause of, that's... that was never good. Do you know what else wasn't good? Yelping. Yelping when you're trying to be silent and pass under the radar. But damn, Hawk could have sworn something touched his foot and something green slithered on the ground in front of him. And he hears a buzz and his break time's over. He doesn't know why -it might be because his newly found, shallow acceptance of his imminent death- but he shudders loudly and violently, all because he could. He catches sight of movement again and hop-steps forward with a hasty "Alright, alright, I'm moving already!" And move he does.

The sun's falling and he's wet and hungry and tired and lost. Drafted again. Everything's a pleasure, a joy. He finds a grin snake onto his expression. It hurts to keep but it'll do the trick.

Nobody would blame him for humming a tune. It rained all night the day I left, the weather it was dry. Nobody was around to criticize. He had heard and made sure. But he was sure he'd lose it if he heard nothing but birds any longer. Oh, Susanna! Oh don't you cry for me. Keeping his mind on the pitch of unsung lyrics kept it off of the rising panic and his stomach which was resolved to eat itself through. Ladies and gentlemen: the captain is here.

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She's relaxing with every step as her brain slowly allows it - quickly filing him into the category of the very weird but not likely to be dangerous. Not that she fully lowers her guard - she never does, not with lone adult men - but she's almost in step beside him, now, and paying more attention to where they are going rather than him.

He's nuts. One hundred percent nuts, but something about it is causing her to almost crack a smile, even as her limp is getting worse with every step.

"Yeah. Well. You and I have very different bucket lists," She mused quietly. "Hot food is on mine. And maybe a bed. And people not trying to kill me for like... a whole week. That'd be nice."

No, it was impossible. He couldn't hold in the laugh this time. It'd be criminal to do so. It's a good thing his hands were on his head and he took to heart the role of acting POW or else he would have doubled clear over and slapped his knees and maybe clutched his stomach. As it was, the laughter was short lived and Hawkeye was sure to keep it from ringing too loud. All in all, most of it was silent but his ears burned red and his gasping for air and letting it hiss out ought to be audible enough.

The girl should be in pain. Hearing her heavier steps were good. Pain that could be felt was better than pain so far gone it wasn't. Her adrenaline had begun to wear off, he figured. And if she stayed next to him he'll slow his pace but still- he won't turn to look at her.

"Different!" There's the trace of a chuckle in his voice still. There were crow's feet at his eyes. It was such a task to not let his hands down. "I think we might be related. Hot food- good food. Not powdered slop. I want a real mattress straight out of the newest edition Sears catalog. I want a fan if it's hot and a coat if it's cold. --I take that back, I don't want a damn fan. Air conditioning!"

A week without someone trying to kill them all.

"And television. I hear- I hear those are all the rage. I'm a man of simple pleasures."

He made four hundred a month. He owed the Army twenty-two thousand. When the hell was he going to get a television? --why the hell was he thinking about television? His legs would soon give out if Ellie's didn't. "How much longer do we need to walk? We going the right way? I left my compass back in Korea. It pointed East instead of North, so we went longer than we should have thinking West was South. Either that or the sun rose the wrong way every day, which I wouldn't blame it for. I ask because I'm old and I don't think I could keep up if it'll be much longer." He really had to look at her foot.

Ellie couldn't help the smile at his laugh, though she tried to smother the expression so that it twisted into something that looked more bemused than amused.

It was then that Ellie figured out that maybe Hawkeye didn't really know where they were - or, at least, that he didn't really know the conditions of where they were.

Because there was absolutely no way he'd be wishing for television if he'd ever actually been in the Capitol.

She filed that information away for now, noting to herself to ask him about it later, because for the moment he was right and there was little way she could keep walking on this ankle.

"It's right there," she said, pointing, though she had no idea what the hell he was rambling about with Korea and west being south and east being west. Up ahead, not far now, was a massive tree - the hollow was even visible from this side. "Looks like we're lucky and it's unoccupied."

Edited 2013-11-10 14:56 (UTC)

He has to do it- he finally turns to see her over with the excuse of looking where she had pointed. And he is, honest to God, surprised to find the girl had no knife out and that it seemed she didn't have one on her at all. It's a pleasant surprise because he knows he at least won't die at her hands. It's gut wrenching because here he is capable of snapping her like a twig, if he had the mind to, and she wouldn't have a thing to ward him off with. And there were other children in the jungle, too. In caves. Hiding in hollow trees.

"I can carry you from here to there, ya know." He offers, but thinks he won't be taken up on it. He kind of hopes he won't be because he hadn't been lying about his legs almost giving out. All of him was sore and ready to fall. He drops his hands to his sides. He figures out his shoulders hurt, too, from all the running around. But they were close and he wasn't going to fall down yet. He continues forward, and would only stop if Ellie did. He stifles a snort much like Ellie had stifled her amusement before.
There was blind faith at play here. He wasn't going to be the one to tear the illusion.

"Unoccupied except for all the bugs you can dream of." But that didn't mean he had to keep the shivers to himself, did it? No, not at all. A tree. It was large. Hidden- and Hawkeye was grateful for that. There were no signs of people having passed nearby and so that further kindled his new appreciation for the stump.

"It's going to be terrible trying to stretch your legs in there."

It reminds him of the capsule that lifted him into the arena, a little.

"Tight fit."

Not that he was nervous- he had a girl to take care of first.

"Are you sure it's the right one?"

"No," She said immediately, to the carrying. No way she was going to let herself into that vulnerable a position. She was already taking a huge risk with him already.

Once he was done yammering about the stump, she nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure," she said as they came up to it. "Slept here on the second night. It's not bad, and there's space upwards a bit." She paused at the entrance and then motioned that he should go inside first.

Ha! See, he knew it. It wasn't, really, a reason to rejoice but at least it confirmed that while he might be something stupid the girl wasn't wholly stupid. Though what difference it made for a man to be let so close to her, holding her or not, is lost to him. Comfort, he supposed, but long days and nights that meshed into a blur of forcing yelping and hurt boys down to administer sedative and sedative made the concept of strength through independence foreign. He doesn't want to show more displeasure than he already has, though, at the idea of living in a space so small. Even if it was, he knew, so much safer than sitting outside.

But a phobia is called what it is because it doesn't listen to reason.

"Well, with that shining recommendation…" He sees her gesture. He decides to be brave and waltz inside as instructed, so he ducks his head and marches forward. And promptly stops at the entrance, only peering inside. Nice tree. Hollow tree. Sturdy tree. Comfy mud. Brown bark.

This was all really stupid of him.

"I'm an officer and a gentleman. I swear." And a chicken wanting to show he really was harmless, and a half-assed attempt to bow and show Ellie how much he really insisted she go first wouldn't do it. Christ, he hated everything. Thumpity-thump went his poor little heart and Hawkeye announced, "Ladies first." And he stepped in fully. Finally. Made his way as far in as he could, which admittedly wasn't very far, and rewarded himself by leaning against the skeleton. He'd slide his ass down to the ground but when Ellie entered, there might not be enough room (or oxygen) to relax. Besides- the foot. It's always the foot.

With his back to her, the smile breaks her lips a little easier, and she actually chuckles when he steps in. Ladies first indeed.

She follows him in after a moment, raising an eyebrow and trying to smother the smile.

"You alright there, Doc?" She asks. "It's not going to bite you. I don't think. This time."

She sidles up inside until she can take a seat, leaning back on the bark as she slides down to the ground. "Oh, fuck," She groans, reaching out for her ankle.

Music to his ears! Really! It was! It lifts his spirits so much that Hawkeye feels like he might hiccup, he was so high-- because that had been a chuckle he'd heard, he was sure. He promises to tame his anxiety and the desperate butterflies in his stomach long enough to shoot back, "I'll give this inn two stars. I'm used to a life of luxury, not stuff like this. My cot would have the finest chocolate drops under the pillow when I'd slip in every night. The rats would always make sure of that. And we'd have dust, finely powdered. This beautiful golden cover over everything."

Ellie was sitting now, and Hawkeye took it as a cue to lower himself, too. His legs! God, he swears he'd moan in pleasure if the girl at least looked over twenty. He settles for a sigh.

"Not this... mud stuff."

It's a transition, believe it or not. He shifts, uncomfortable with how he'd positioned himself. He rolls his shoulders. He remembers how much the whole of him hurts, and he inches closer to Ellie -it's a really tight fit in here, but it would do- and tentatively reaches a hand out, not quite touching her leg but hovering as if asking for permission. "You never told me what you were running from. How bad's it hurt? Give it to me on a scale of one to ten."

"Any kind of bed gets five stars in my books," Ellie said. She'd grown up with beds but nothing you could call luxury. And the last year? Well, being on the road during an apocalypse did not grant much in the way of bedding.

"That's because I don't want you thinking my head needs looking at too," Ellie quipped lowly as he continued talking, shifting her ankle so that it was in easier reach of his fingers, and giving a short nod of permission.

"What's ten on the scale? Getting shot? Stabbed? Eaten by an infected? The worst pain I've ever experienced? Because that'd be pretty bad, Doc. So why don't we put this one at a 3."

He's not sure what to make of that comment about a bed, isn't sure if he should even try to decipher it. He gets a hold of her ankle and scoots closer still, so it takes less effort on his part to move it. It'd be criminal to hold back the scoff that had built up, so he doesn't, and the examination begins. "I'm not a psychiatrist. If you ever want me to look at your head, though, the most I can do is recommend something for lice." But the revelation came easy and calmly, thought Hawkeye could swear the air inside the makeshift shelter was heavier than what was outside. "Like hoop skirts or dress ties. It's very effective, but not for getting them off your scalp. But if you ever need to talk, I've got two ears and last I checked, they worked fine. Just don't ask when was the last time I checked."

Maybe someday he'll give in to the curiosity gnawing him now about what 'infected' meant. First he'd have to stop questioning the idea of different worlds and times congregated as they were. Confused as he was already, it didn't seem wise to pry just yet. On the other hand, he wouldn't just bar information.

"So. Adjusted for adolescent inflation and exaggeration, it's a solid two." He let her foot down gently, only to offer a rough pat on her shin and a winning smile. "Just seems sprained. Keep off of it. That diagnosis will set you back four dollars. Pay up now, or later?"

"Ha, put it on my tab," She said sarcastically, though she looked honestly relieved, reaching down to press tender fingers against her ankle after he finished.

She frowned, however, after a second, her brows furrowing before she spoke.

"Look. I-- You have to promise to hear me out, okay? And not just-- yeah. Anyway. I was running because I saw fucking-- Okay I have no idea exactly what kind they were, I didn't exactly have a really thorough education if you know what I mean, but I still know what a fucking dinosaur looks like." She sucked in a breath and met his eye, as sternly as she could manage so that maybe he would believe her. "A pack of them. Maybe a bit taller than you, and fast as fuck. There are dinosaurs out there."

He snatches a leaf, broad and wet, off the ground under him and scribbles over it with one finger. He flashed her an OK after, when she was worrying over her ankle, by pressing his thumb and pointer finger and making a circle.

Then Hawkeye put the leaf acting as a pad of paper down, pat it, and heard her out. Well, the girl sure was a lousy story-teller, and he felt like he was in suspense worse than if he had been reading the cheapest paperback thriller in the compound. That is to say, he was engrossed. First because Ellie just admitted something he thought was intimate, especially considering she was, y'know, a girl. Now he'd have to gauge exactly what constituted a thorough education where she was from, or ask outright and pretend to be a tutor. Second: dinosaurs. He was a blink of an eye away from barking out a laugh but then she met his eye and he was still trying to take her seriously because there wasn't a reason why he shouldn't.

"Dinosaurs?" He asks, leaning a little forward and with a little lilt. "'Terrible lizards' kind of dinosaurs?" It was bizarre and, sorry, hard to believe.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know, it sounds fucking crazy. I wouldn't believe me either." Hell, she barely believed it and she was there.

"I swear, they were dinosaurs. I have no idea how the fuck they got them here, but hey, they got fucking aliens loose in the Capitol before they sent me here so I really shouldn't be surprised."

He's quick to lift a palm and blurt out "No, no, I believe you." in an entirely unconvincing tone, and he at least hopes it wasn't too patronizing. Now, he knew about the strange capitol city that was called nothing, so the strange and uncreative sons of bitches who lived there had to live their lives calling it the Capitol. He'd crack wise about that, or he'd ask how Ellie had liked her time there before she was brought to the slaughter, but then he's nodding slow and heavy and saying, "Just like I believe you about those aliens."

But hey, he'd heard about supposed time travel. He's just glad he's not the only one that may be a bit touched in the head. That the words were coming from a girl just baffled him, because he knew all about spinning yarns but never to a stranger so lost like he was. That was just bad manners.

He retreats to his opposite end of the space. He keeps his back to close to where the the opening is. He wiggles, nestles in. "So," he starts casually. "Where you from?"

He obviously doesn't believe her but she can't really blame him - she wouldn't believe any of it if she were him. And she wasn't going to bother trying to fight him over it. He'd see, eventually, either here or when they got back to the Capitol. So she was very glad when he changed the subject.

"Boston. Well, what's left of it anyway. As far as I know they closed down the quarantine there and abandoned the city after I left. That's what Joel said they were going to do." She paused, having said well more than she meant. "... It doesn't matter. Where were you from?"

The curiosity almost literally made him itch. He had to stop scratching his arm when he realized the urge to wasn't coming from a mosquito bite he had recently acquired. Quarantine. Abandoned. Boston? His Boston? That stuffy blue-blooded Bulldog-wannabe Winchester's Boston? Rats and their high class fleas would continue to breed in those sewers well after any apocalypse. He grunts. Questions just want to stream out.

Hawkeye sports an ear-splitting whimsical grin a second after.

He wants to pretend he's in one of Rockwell's paintings, the very portrait of a fond thought.

"Ah, Boston. I did my residency there. I loved the theaters. Hated the shows, sometimes. Loved the l-" and a stop. "I'll tell you when you're older. But no, not even Boston can compare to Crabapple Cove. -That's in Maine, by the way. In the springtime, it's..." Because it was spring. It was spring, 1953. "It smells good. I know that's such a weird thing to say, but after winter, and everything is thawing out, and flowers start blooming again-- the buttercups! Oh, it's something."

Especially when those sweet smells do the tango with the scents of the fish market. Now that was an experience.

Quarantine. Abandoned. Some man named Joel--

Well, now Hawkeye's looking and sounding more like a nosy classmate than an old man spinning a yarn. He leans close, but keeps his seat. "Who the heck's Joel?" And why does he want to ask where they were last Friday night?

She lets herself smile a little, as he describes it. Not from her world, obviously, at least not from her time period. But that was okay. If she could have chosen a time she would have chosen something pre apocalypse too. She likes stories about the time from before, and she knows the smell that he's describing. The city didn't smell good - human despair never did - but she almost tells him about how the wilderness takes over the world. How she saw giraffes, just before she was brought here. But that makes her think about spring and that makes her think about Winter and that makes her think about Joel, and she doesn't want to.

So when Hawkeye asks about him, her smile vanishes. Her brows furrow, and she looks at the ground.

"He's my--" But she stumbles there. It was impossible to explain. Friend? Father? "He was hired to help me get somewhere," She settles on, finally, the truth - if the absolute barest bones of it. Anything more and she's afraid she might tear a hole in her chest.

"We were almost there when I got brought here, and-- and he didn't come. He's not here, it's just me."

Honest truth is that she's furious with him. Even though if she thought about it rationally she knew it wasn't his fault. It wasn't like the Capitol gave them a choice. But she was still angry.

Everyone fucking left in the end.

Maybe it was grief.

"So it doesn't matter."

You win some and you lose some, and Hawkeye's reminded of that as he watches her smile disappear. He was certain, almost arrogantly, that he could coax it back so that it didn't bother or move him maybe as much as it should have when it was dropped. He finds himself listening more intently to how she finds her words than to what those words are.

He wondered what exactly was so fascinating about the ground she stared at, so he directs his gaze to it too. He tells himself it's not guilt he's feeling for the turn of mood. It was natural when you were thrown to the wolves. He knew. He also knew the girl feeling lousy was making him feel lousy, so he'd better remedy it and quick. Like Ellie had said- and she was right- it didn't matter.

"Funny name for a guide dog," he settles on, in an entirely oblivious way. "You know, I never would have guessed if you wouldn't have told me."

It works, maybe because she wishes it would work, and she snorts, just once, a single laugh, and then the smile lopsidedly takes to her lips.

"Guide dog. Yeah, you got it. Not too fond of strangers but loyal as anything once he got warmed up on you." The smile did come back then - she couldn't help it, somehow the image of Joel as a dog kind of fit. "Could sick him on anyone and he'd rip their throat out, probably."

He doesn't hold back the shudder, and even makes it more noticeable. It was like he was imagining a nest of spiders dumped on his back or glued to the insides of his shorts- and don't think he's a stranger to the sensation. It was easy to recall. "His messes sure are unique," he offers, not too sure he feels like liking Joel much after the revelation. "Most you can pick up with a little scoop and plastic bag. Sounds like the plastic bag needed here will be a little bigger. Range from four to six feet."

She snorted, again, and then honestly began to laugh - a nervous kind of relieved laughter when one hasn't been able to laugh in a while, and she wipes at the tears in her eyes. "Yeah, well, trust me that when you're surrounded by infected and clickers, having a good vicious guard dog is one of the best things you can come by." She grinned. "I'd make sure he didn't hurt you though. You're alright, Doc."

Laughing was infectious and he told himself to ask about the disease that had taken her world, her time, but later. Once she'd come down from the high, because he wouldn't bear be the one to drag her back to the mud. Because he reached over and jabbed at her stomach only once, experimentally, to see if she was as ticklish there as he was.

They'd only just met and there were boundaries he'd be sure to stick to. "Just 'alright'?" And he can't even fake the offense. He shrugs. "Better than I was expecting." Everything was, so far, and it was an effort to keep his smile. A death match couldn't be all cheer forever.

The experimental tickle only made her laugh harder and she batted his hand away.

"Hey, better than I was expecting," She says as she forces herself to relax and stop laughing because really, it was too loud, and she really didn't need raptors on her tail again.

She wipes at her eye one more time and settles back - she knocked her ankle when she was laughing and now she's acutely aware of it.

She wasn't totally sure if she could trust him but she didn't have a lot of choice at this point and he seemed okay. (David, she tries to tell herself, had always given her the creeps.)

"I think I should probably try to get some rest. If you promise no cannibalism and that you'd wake me if anything came by, we could take turns?"

He shushed her, only because he had noticed her knock her ankle, too. He kept his distance, which in the hollow tree there wasn't much of, dutifully. A fresh lungful of air, he realized, he'd have to suck in soon or else risk death by suffocation. And silly him, he takes the words of cannibalism as a joke and only snorts. "Like hell I'm leaving my life in the hands of a teenager," he says and there's a real edge to them, however dull.

Still, she did have a point and no, he wasn't superhuman. So Hawkeye stayed silent for some seconds pondering her offer. He'd already come home with her, after all, what was so bad about sharing the watch? She was unarmed and hurt, he was unarmed and helpless. Together, they might stay alive a day longer. "Yeah, yeah, sure," he agrees, unease seeping back. "Get some sleep and try not to snore."

"Alright. Thanks." She curls up against the side of the tree and suddenly takes up a lot less space, though her ankle is held out at a slight odd angle, to keep it somewhat elevated. She's so exhausted that she's already fading fast.

"I really..." - a long yawn - "... appreciate it..."

Within seconds she's out like a light, and thankfully, not snoring. Most of her doesn't expect Hawkeye to be there when she wakes up, and she wouldn't blame him if he wasn't.

But she can still hope.

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(open) Attention, all personnel. There's a loon on the loose.

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minor spoilers for the last of us!

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