He wasn't sure if smiling was the right thing to do, or if he should have stayed grave, but he does. He smiles. He didn't dare grin because nothing had been solved or changed for the better, because his eyes brightened at what Hawkeye had figured before had been obvious. Confirmation wasn't necessary, and like he so often felt with many people he had interacted with here, there was a biting tinge of desperation at how difficult his notions seemed to be to grasp.
He had just- nearly- bared his soul to the guy, and here he was, asking like a sullen schoolkid. He had shown the guy his legs, his belly, his hesitance and current self-loathing. "Fella," he says, louder this time again but not recklessly so, "if I showed you any more of myself, I'd have to marry you." And again, he figured the meaning might be lost and only hoped it wasn't- for the sake of familiarity. Margaret or Beej or heck, even Charles would catch on in an instant, throw a shoe at his head. For the hell of it, for the moment he was having, he risks it- he'd swing an arm around Kili's shoulder, but height made that difficult, and the best he could do is let fall a heavy hand of his on the dwarf's shoulder. Could you imagine their children, he wants to ask. He shrugs, the giddiness bleeding through despite any attempts to hold it back. "And what would my mother think?"
He might be mad but he can't apologize. Not for the lousy doctoring or lousy words or even for the waste of time. Here was something solid, he thought, finally one definition of thousands slapped haphazardly onto one mad thing of thousands more. "I'd make a terrible housewife and the plumber would greet you home every Thursday evening." So yes, he means. Yes to being friends.
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He had just- nearly- bared his soul to the guy, and here he was, asking like a sullen schoolkid. He had shown the guy his legs, his belly, his hesitance and current self-loathing. "Fella," he says, louder this time again but not recklessly so, "if I showed you any more of myself, I'd have to marry you." And again, he figured the meaning might be lost and only hoped it wasn't- for the sake of familiarity. Margaret or Beej or heck, even Charles would catch on in an instant, throw a shoe at his head. For the hell of it, for the moment he was having, he risks it- he'd swing an arm around Kili's shoulder, but height made that difficult, and the best he could do is let fall a heavy hand of his on the dwarf's shoulder. Could you imagine their children, he wants to ask. He shrugs, the giddiness bleeding through despite any attempts to hold it back. "And what would my mother think?"
He might be mad but he can't apologize. Not for the lousy doctoring or lousy words or even for the waste of time. Here was something solid, he thought, finally one definition of thousands slapped haphazardly onto one mad thing of thousands more. "I'd make a terrible housewife and the plumber would greet you home every Thursday evening." So yes, he means. Yes to being friends.