Guy just lay there breathing for a little while, drooling and blinking his eyes, until he eventually spat out all the spit that had pooled in his mouth and tried to talk. It took him a while to finally become with it enough to talk but when he did, he didn't seem upset or agitated.
"Di'you put down n'baby? She needs a nap," he said muzzily.
He clearly thought he was somewhere else, maybe with his family. This was good though. Confusion and disorientation after a seizure were to be expected. He was breathing, he was talking, his brain was working well enough for that. He wasn't out of the woods yet, certainly, but at least it meant it wasn't status epilecticus. Short seizures were better than long ones, even if they weren't as good as no seizures at all.
"She's a good girl this morning. She's bein' a cutie," he said and a smile bloomed over his face, even though his eyes closed again. Hawkeye had seen that kind of smile before. No one lived a life without seeing that kind of smile at least once. It was the smile of a parent absolutely bowled over by a love of their child.
Apparently it was something ageless. Apparently it was something that hadn't changed since animal skins were all the rage. It was a universal. Apparently that was where his mind went when he was sick and disoriented and in a place full of murder, with the blood of another child on his hands.
That was where this man's mind went in the dark. It was where it went when he was confused and maybe dying. Instead of going somewhere far more agitated and hateful, it chose to settle there in a quiet little place of love, so that if he did die there next to Hawkeye, the last thing he'd be thinking about was holding a little baby girl in his arms.
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"Di'you put down n'baby? She needs a nap," he said muzzily.
He clearly thought he was somewhere else, maybe with his family. This was good though. Confusion and disorientation after a seizure were to be expected. He was breathing, he was talking, his brain was working well enough for that. He wasn't out of the woods yet, certainly, but at least it meant it wasn't status epilecticus. Short seizures were better than long ones, even if they weren't as good as no seizures at all.
"She's a good girl this morning. She's bein' a cutie," he said and a smile bloomed over his face, even though his eyes closed again. Hawkeye had seen that kind of smile before. No one lived a life without seeing that kind of smile at least once. It was the smile of a parent absolutely bowled over by a love of their child.
Apparently it was something ageless. Apparently it was something that hadn't changed since animal skins were all the rage. It was a universal. Apparently that was where his mind went when he was sick and disoriented and in a place full of murder, with the blood of another child on his hands.
That was where this man's mind went in the dark. It was where it went when he was confused and maybe dying. Instead of going somewhere far more agitated and hateful, it chose to settle there in a quiet little place of love, so that if he did die there next to Hawkeye, the last thing he'd be thinking about was holding a little baby girl in his arms.