If he hadn't been chief, he'd have winced at the change. Some part of him wants to shout in angered hypocrisy- why the rumble? Why the melodrama? Kili already knew, so why did Hawkeye feel like he was the one to drop the bomb this time? Of course he's practiced from telling boys who wake from surgery to find their legs gone that hoping wouldn't change the reality of the situation, and so his features don't shift. He gives a quick little grunt of acknowledgement, and drawls on with new found frivolity. "Don't worry about it; everything from the Capitol is twisted," he says in one breath, nearly sighing, nearly dismissive. Because he thinks now that he's talking to a dwarf- the fairy tale kind- and he thinks fleetingly that he is insane, because he remembered the dragon of District 1. "The gamemaker's heads are empty. They might have just forgotten."
Everything from the Capitol was twisted, and he cocks a brow right back at the short man, powerless to do anything about it but carry forward. Poor bugger, he thinks, and clicks his tongue like he was chiding a child for not seeing the whole of the picture. "But at least they have armor to show us." Which was back to a safe corner of conversation- here, and them, and them alone. Kili (and what the hell kind of name was Kili?) hadn't spilled a drop of Hawkeye's blood yet, and if they'd come this far, Hawkeye figured they were chummy as could be. Which was peachy. Really. "Unless you're wearing it all, Robin Hood." He starts to move away slowly and cautiously at first, listening to the nothing of the hall, before he moves to make a show of examining one display.
A mannequin of a man wears a leather tunic. Hawkeye pulls a face. "Let me confess something to you. Man-to-man," he says, not bothering to readjust his gaze to the dwarf. The dragon-slaying, elf-friending, shank-boot toting dwarf. He'd laugh about this, one day. He scratches his arm. "Being naked makes me feel a whole lot better." Which is to say that him pulling over a layer of clothing more wasn't a bad idea at all, in a very roundabout way.
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Everything from the Capitol was twisted, and he cocks a brow right back at the short man, powerless to do anything about it but carry forward. Poor bugger, he thinks, and clicks his tongue like he was chiding a child for not seeing the whole of the picture. "But at least they have armor to show us." Which was back to a safe corner of conversation- here, and them, and them alone. Kili (and what the hell kind of name was Kili?) hadn't spilled a drop of Hawkeye's blood yet, and if they'd come this far, Hawkeye figured they were chummy as could be. Which was peachy. Really. "Unless you're wearing it all, Robin Hood." He starts to move away slowly and cautiously at first, listening to the nothing of the hall, before he moves to make a show of examining one display.
A mannequin of a man wears a leather tunic. Hawkeye pulls a face. "Let me confess something to you. Man-to-man," he says, not bothering to readjust his gaze to the dwarf. The dragon-slaying, elf-friending, shank-boot toting dwarf. He'd laugh about this, one day. He scratches his arm. "Being naked makes me feel a whole lot better." Which is to say that him pulling over a layer of clothing more wasn't a bad idea at all, in a very roundabout way.