He brought a leg over to place over Guy's- a hold, nothing more. The spear and knife made him nervous but he understood what they were there for, why Guy had held on to them despite the danger of having the weapons do him in in an accident. It wasn't his decision to shove them away so he doesn't, but he'll grunt with the effort of trying to drag the boy at least an inch farther away. He wishes he had water, wishes he had some activated charcoal, tubes, anything. But he'd wished hard for those things before and nothing had come from it, so he prepares himself to expect the need for mechanical ventilation later.

Hawkeye brings a hand unceremoniously to wipe at Guy's face, fingers pinching his bloody nose first and dragging down and over to wipe excess drool from his mouth. He didn't care much for glamour and what mess he made and got over his own skin served as a distraction from putting his weight over Guy who was beginning to convulse. He really did wish he'd shut up, despite the fact that it seemed talking at least gave the fellow reason to keep sucking in air.

"I don't know what I could've done," Hawkeye mumbles, flat and distant and almost entirely uninvolved in the tale. He could only handle one crisis at a time, Christ, and he didn't want to think about how bad the girl's leg had been butchered or the fact that he was trying to keep a child's murderer alive. He really didn't. "I wasn't there to see how bad it was." And he sure as hell wasn't here to soothe troubled souls. His own was enough trouble.

He wipes at Guy's face again. No, he didn't want to hear the details of the dead girl's body, either.

"Whatever poison you got hit with, it's attacking your nervous system. You're twitching now but that'll start to get violent in a minute. You gotta ride it out." But he doesn't feel comfortable telling him it was up to the muscles and not his will or brain to do that. "Whatever you do, try not to punch me too hard. I'm fragile and I break easy."