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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"You haven't really done your part to prove that fact yet, honestly," Holiday answered in a lower tone, already approaching the Cornucopia with cautious steps. "There might be traps." Just a warning. You never know.

The clearing was getting closer and closer with every step they took. While Holiday couldn't really see anyone around, she also couldn't see anything around. It looked like it was picked clean from her point of view...

Yeah, yeah, he knew. About the traps, too.

Hawkeye found himself a step or an inch ahead of Holiday, feeling some spirit of competition rising. Not in that way. Not in the 'I'll find this before you do' sort of way that would also make him search for details he didn't know and crane his neck. Competition in the more primitive way, the alert way, the 'survival' sort of way. It would be impossible to miss the Cornucopia by now and Hawkeye thinks back to his arrival.

The clearing was prime ground to hunt.

His heart was beating hard, but how was that any different from the rest of the day?

"How do you feel about splitting up?" He asks, though by how low he voices it it might as well be mouthed. No worry, though, he'd also taken the liberty to step closer, to practically brush shoulders with the woman. He didn't see a damn thing in that building. "If someone wants to pick us off going in, we might as well make it difficult." Not a damn thing in that building.

Splitting up could end badly... for him. Holiday was confident that she could get away or at least wound an attacker. Hawkeye was more of a liability for this sort of thing and splitting up would probably cost him his life, but it could give her time to find something for Punchy and AndrAIa.

Biting her lip, Holiday nods in resignation. "Just be careful," she tells him just as quietly, but still sternly.

Then again, he could be plotting to get the jump on her. If that's the case, let him. It would make some guilt go away.

She must think he was no better at following instructions than a rowdy school boy. And she'd be right, but Hawkeye would think he was maybe more worried about preserving his life than any teenage boy he knew. He knew his life wasn't the only one riding on his staying alive, no matter where he was. Not that knowledge on how to set a broken arm would make him invisible to anyone that may have a bow.

He gives Holiday a final look see. Pulls a face and waggles his eyebrows suggestively and slips away until he's some good yards away, still in sight of Holiday, still hidden in the treeline. Hawkeye keeps his gaze on her, keeps his ears focused on what's around to try and pick out any disturbance. He'd wait until she made the first move, and he'd sprint ahead. It felt a lot like waiting to try a new procedure, no experience, life on the line, text book open to page 213 with watery illustrations. So Hawkeye felt a streak of confidence it could be done.

Holiday took several long moments to look around and listen. If there was anyone out here, they were being as silent as stone. She watched for movement in the leaves, anything that couldn't be chalked up as wind, and kept an eye on Hawkeye at the same time.

It seemed quiet. It seemed abandoned. Either it was and there was nothing there or it was a trap. Or maybe some grateful thing in between.

It would have to be done quickly.

She looked back to him and nodded before going on the move. Holiday sprinted into the open, but kept to the treeline as she circled her way to the center, knife out and ready.

He was as much a danger as anything or anyone else around, he understood. He was just the only one in sight, and maybe the one that was playing on Rebecca's nerves. He wished there was a way to signal he was harmless in some unmistakable manner, then wonders just how stupid he could be to think up something like that when it seemed it was everyone's duty to knife him. His ears were open, hearing the sounds of the jungle. He wouldn't bother with straining his eyes because he knew he wouldn't catch anything out of the ordinary. The adrenaline hadn't worn off but it had subsided significantly.

The nod brought it back.

Rebecca sprinted and Hawkeye followed. She kept to the treeline, he made a straight dash. He figured out how to signal he was willing to help. If someone had hidden and no-one had caught it, then he'd just go down. But he was at the behemoth building's front sooner than he imagined, if he had imagined anything at all. He didn't register what there was or wasn't. He just searched, because they had made the dash acting on hope.

Holiday watched Hawkeye make a mad dash for the Cornucopia and was actually amazed that he wasn't shot down in that suicide attempt. She quickly made her way to the entrance with him, half hoping he didn't find any weapons before her, but more to keep an eye on his back in case they had just caught someone by surprise.

"Anything?" she asked once she was at the entrance, watching the tree lines with her knife drawn. A glance behind her told her there wasn't much there, if anything and it wasn't like they could stay long and shop.

Food- any kind he knew. Powdered, canned, leftover, fictional, real-- silence wasn't a concern to him. More than once he managed to create a ruckus outside of his own shuffling and heavy breathing. More than once he found himself wanting to shout out but he miraculously managed to be self-aware enough to stifle the urge. He couldn't spot Holiday rummaging through the existing nothingness next to him and he felt heat rise up in his throat and build up in the bridge of his nose. He was angry but it didn't matter because there was nothing, anyway. When he feels his way out and spots her guarding the entrance, he figures, the anger collapses just as he wishes he could.

"Dirt," he announces. "Lots of that. The world will never want for... dirt."

His breathing was labored and he wondered if he should make it so obvious how out of shape he was around the woman wielding the weapon. Her children would go hungry. If she hadn't lied, Hawkeye figured she had more to worry about than the ragged man stating the obvious. "Do we go out the same way we came in?" Sounds like puke, he thinks. "Is there some secret tunnel I don't know about?" He's not looking forward to another run. "There wasn't anything left."

There was definitely no secret tunnel... Maybe.

On the other hand, there didn't seem to be any other tributes in the immediate area, unless they were planning an ambush. The news of nothing left over was a bit disheartening, but she'd handle that in better safety.

"Get back to the tree line," she speaks hushed and quickly. "I'll cover you." Holiday spares a glance pass Hawkeye, seeing very little left for the grabbing, if anything. She idly wondered if tree bark was poisonous in this arena like some of the other plants as she turned back to look around the area. She could always try some first before making it back to the cave.

"So no tunnel," he repeated, and while Holiday spoke hushed and rushed, he did the opposite. Because she could go now, whenever she wanted, because the deal they had struck up had dissolved with the finding of no food. He wasn't entirely sure she knew that, though, so he pressed. "Which is just dandy, because I couldn't crawl through it, anyway."

And he crept forward until he was peering back out the mouth of the Cornucopia and the sight of the jungle again made his heart sink. Seconds inside a shelter, one so terrible as this, where it seemed everyone wanted to get to, had made him soft. He sucks in a breath and takes off, though, straight out the way he had come in. A sprint to the trees, and he's gasping for breath by the time he reaches them and the safety they were supposed to offer. Vision swimming, he searches for Holiday behind him.

Holiday trailed a few feet behind him, just to make sure that no one was going to run after them. They could easily plan to ambush them in the trees, but she still doubted it. That would take effort and, really they were far too easy to pick off on their Cornucopia run. If someone was going to kill them, they would have done it already.

What a stupid move. But nothing lost and nothing earned, so it didn't really matter now.

Rebecca darted into the trees right behind him. She took a moment to stop and listen, hoping that he would be quiet for that long. For what she heard, it didn't sound like anyone else was around. All of that panic for... well, for dirt. She still observed the surrounding area, as if something or someone would come through at any moment.

Eventually, she just... nodded to him, not really knowing what to say and being uncomfortable with saying anything in the first place. He was good at talking to help with that much. That is, until she did find herself speaking. "We have a temporary shelter, a little food, if you want to come back with me."

The cave was sadly temporary. Punchy was the first to notice the ever rising tide.

What a stupid move. Him, following her around like that and getting dragged around and hoping to keep promises he couldn't possibly uphold. Believing that she had a kid hidden, when he only had her word and she only showed him a knife. Ah well. When she shows up again he waits intently for another... order, he supposes. Or something like it. He gets a nod and wants to tell her off for it.

Then he's shocked, you know, at her offer and at the fact that it seemed to him to be sincere.

Despite himself, he finds himself grinning. Despite himself, he finds himself raising a hand and panting out, "No, no. No thanks. A little food isn't going to do me any good. I'm a growing boy." Though it would honestly do a lot better than no food at all, which is what he had to his name at the moment. "And if you make me run one more time I'm going to barf and just lay there. So forget it." He thought again about dying at the hands of another person, another-- what the hell'd they call them? Tributes? Yeah. He'd help the woman and the kids then, but only then, by his size and weight alone. If the game was survival, strictly, he'd be nothing good to them. He couldn't hunt. Couldn't scour. Couldn't keep quiet and he sure as hell would only take space and temper and food away from who needed it more. Useless was a lousy thing to be, but hey, it was the truth.

Holiday had learned in previous arenas to not argue with people who turned down her generous offers. Only one was going to live, after all, and everyone had to go their independent ways eventually.

So, when he turned her down, she just frowned and nodded again to him. Besides, there truly wasn't a lot of food and she really shouldn't have offered in the first place since she's not the only one in the little camp.

"There's a series of caves on the northern part of the island along the beach. We've made camp in one of those, if you happen to pass by there in the next few days... After that, it'll probably be underwater and we would have moved on, so don't worry about it then."

Assuming they weren't all dead, of course. Hawkeye was a likable guy, though. If he found the right person, he should be just fine, hopefully. "Good luck and... sorry about the Cornucopia. Thank you for helping me." She had nothing to give in thanks, sadly.

Hawkeye didn't wait for her to even finish her first sentence before he was snickering, and that was hard to do when he was gasping for breath, so for a moment it even sounded like he was gagging and see what he meant by thinking he'd be no use to keep around? Jesus, next time give him a medal for running so damn fast, at least, or a pat on the back and a thumbs up. He snorts and finally gets his breath and stands up like a respectable human being instead of like a sad sack of one. It was odd to him, how one moment it would hit how dire the situation was and the next he was giggling like mad.

There were children. He waved his hand again.

He made a split second decision and decided against telling her about his claustrophobia. No caves for him, no, no. He actually might rather die.

"No, you- you watch over your kids." And he's back to being grave, just like that. Because he was talking about lives he maybe didn't know but that maybe were in just as much danger as they were. And Holiday was alright, minus the first impression. No-nonsense and he could respect that, at the moment. "You watch over the kids and-" and wait. His brows furrow. One quick question, teacher, one quick question before you go, he wants to say. He glanced back at the Cornucopia. Oh, so now he had a name for it. "Why were you expecting to find food there?"

Oh, he was giggling. She couldn't tell if it was because he had already told her no or the fact that she's telling a total stranger where she and people she loves sleep at night. She would certainly laugh for the second reason in that regard, so she manages to not shoot him a look at the last minute.

Though, she would try to make the mood a little lighter for him, considering the atmosphere, but that's exactly why she can't find it within herself. At least the arena was nice this time around, though. She enjoyed this setting a great deal more than the others.

And then the question comes and she nearly finds it shocking that he's asking that. It's been such common knowledge for her for way too long, but she keeps the surprise from her face and looks back at it.

"See those pedestals around it?" she points, where over a hundred metal rings sit all around the Cornucopia. "That's how we arrive here on the first day of the arena, in every arena. The Cornucopia is always loaded with food, weapons, armor, gear. I once got a sleeping bag and backpack of dried fruit and knives from it. I heard they've restocked it in the middle of arenas before, so I wanted to check just in case.

"The goods are limited, of course, and it's probably the most dangerous place in the arenas." She decided against telling him about the first day. He can figure that out later or in his next arena. It was always brutal. Several always die. Sometimes people come away wishing they had died. After all, she lost her right arm in the last Cornucopia. Wasn't fun.

He just showed himself as a newborn, he thinks, and as easy as one to cut down. Hawkeye follows her gaze to the pedestals and remembers standing on one, though he had sprinted off in God knows which direction and his mind had been more on the capsule that had brought him up than what he had stood on. He listened and refrained from nodding because his headache was too great without the movement. His legs were jelly and he'd probably fall down and find a place to rest the second she was out of his sight.

He didn't even register the idea of a bloodbath. It seemed straight-forward to him.

"Yeah," he said to signal he had understood. Well, that was it. It was a simple word and strong. It signaled his learning was over, and Hawkeye could swear he felt it. "Alright." But it wasn't, of course. "Listen, Doctor, I- if you want to play doctor before you go-" ha. Hah hah, and Hawkeye snorts. "We'd probably better just go."

After a second, Holiday turned to leave, but hesitated. "What is it?"

She was really hoping he wasn't trying to slip in a one liner there, but what stopped her was that she really needed to repay him. Something she learned from Howard, actually. Never keep debts if you can help it. She would have to repay him sooner or later for helping her.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. She had fallen for it. And the squeak Hawkeye made, the high pitched, open-mouth, partially silent noise of glee made him hold his stomach and double over himself and made him stomp a foot on the hard mud below.

He gasps in a breath and points a finger at his cheek, and the grin he forces on isn't forced at all. "You could kiss me riiiiight here," he says, "and all my boo-boos will go away." It's such a childish posture he holds himself in, and even takes the liberty to lean a little forward. He's sure he has a scrape somewhere on his body, and if he stripped then maybe he could find it and properly point it out. But good Lord, his stomach-- he'd never run again. The hell with it. The hell with this. The poor woman- he couldn't give a damn about her anymore. She was good. She'd be fine. He was still panting, and that was ridiculous. "Kiss me anywhere and I'll return the favor."

Holiday stared at him for a moment, her first thought being that that had to be one of the most childish pick up lines she had seen from a grown man, but she smiled anyway. That reminded her of Rex far too much, even down to the leaning in and waiting bit. She hadn't indulged the boy, but she considers it with this guy.

However, there was the issue of her nanites. She still wasn't entirely certain on how people were brought back to life aside from rumors and she wasn't about to stoop so low as to use an unwilling test subject on her theories. On the other hand, a debt was a debt, so she raised an eyebrow with her smile. "I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I denied a patient service, would I?"

So, yes. She approaches again. To get so close would also be a sign of vulnerability and trust, so it was a win-win situation. "You helped me out when I needed it, so consider my offering repayment. No need for returns." 'Cause then she might have to kill him and she would really rather not for a lot of reasons. "So long as you really meant anywhere, of course."

He squeaks again- less jubilant and more genuine. He preens. He rolls his shoulders forward and back and sucks in his gut so the change wasn't so grossly noticeable. He risks a swooping step forward, like he was pretending to be some knight and the muck underneath was a carpeted wonder of a floor leading to a ballroom- or, better, a bedroom. Holiday wasn't the one nearly falling over from exhaustion, wasn't the blind one, wasn't the unarmed wonder.

The victorious grin won't budge unless he finds himself bleeding, so the wary feeling boiling is only fair. "Should I undo a clasp?" He asks, chipper and casual and coming in closer, though careful not to suffocate her. He'd really rather the peck not be from the knife. But, oh, he's grinning. "Close my eyes?" And he would. She was alright. He would.

Holiday does actually give a bright, legitimate smile from his antics. It's been awhile, so she would have to thank him for the laugh later. If she had food or an extra weapon, she could even do so now, but alas-

She finds the fact that he's willing to close his eyes to be very nice and humble of him, so there was that, at least. "You don't have to, but thanks for the thought."

Holiday considers kissing the collar of his shirt or something, but that seemed like an unfair cop out, so she tilts her head to look for any scratches on his skin. Finding none, she leans in for a very quick kiss on his jawline, next to his ear, before leaning away again. "Thanks for helping." There. Debt repaid.

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

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