This wasn't fair- this was a trick- this was all just to make his palms sweat and to make his stomach churn and to make him taste bile that didn't quite rise up.
She wouldn't leave. And that's no business of his. And he yells- a short shout because he can't trumpet or bray or yowl but he was caged, anyway. But he was in a zoo, anyway. He grit his teeth and felt a flame in his chest and he turned around. And he'd die if he went back into that. And he knew it. And a step in, he can't control his body with his mind any longer. He's too exhausted. He can't breathe, damn this place. "Damn you!" he hisses, cold as the ashes of the extinguished flame that'd been in him. He felt his skin crawl, felt his blood run like ice. No, no. He wasn't--
wide-eyed, really.
And God, he doesn't even feel it when he stumbles back. Stumbles back into her. This place wasn't fair. There was too much color, too much gray, too many bodies, not enough of-- he wasn't suicidal. Neither was Holiday. He rams her with his shoulder, the way a redhead had rammed him at the starting line, but he at least doesn't want her falling. That would make them slow down. And Hawkeye wanted out of there fast.
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It's not a glare, it's a glower.
This wasn't fair- this was a trick- this was all just to make his palms sweat and to make his stomach churn and to make him taste bile that didn't quite rise up.
She wouldn't leave. And that's no business of his. And he yells- a short shout because he can't trumpet or bray or yowl but he was caged, anyway. But he was in a zoo, anyway. He grit his teeth and felt a flame in his chest and he turned around. And he'd die if he went back into that. And he knew it. And a step in, he can't control his body with his mind any longer. He's too exhausted. He can't breathe, damn this place. "Damn you!" he hisses, cold as the ashes of the extinguished flame that'd been in him. He felt his skin crawl, felt his blood run like ice. No, no. He wasn't--
wide-eyed, really.
And God, he doesn't even feel it when he stumbles back. Stumbles back into her. This place wasn't fair. There was too much color, too much gray, too many bodies, not enough of-- he wasn't suicidal. Neither was Holiday. He rams her with his shoulder, the way a redhead had rammed him at the starting line, but he at least doesn't want her falling. That would make them slow down. And Hawkeye wanted out of there fast.