Oh, he could feel himself just wanting to dissolve into nothing like he had been wanting for days, could hardly convince himself to breathe because it was a simple thing asked of him, and it'd be a quick thing. He could feel his stomach doing backflips, and it was a rare thing. If he wasn't so sure he disliked the man like it was the most natural thing in the world, he might just quip about being in love. The fella was built enough. But no. And who ever thought Hawkeye was absolutely useless, well-- well, damn them. Because he wasn't just exhausted, he was also very tired. And he still moved, still worked. Last he figured, he was also still in his right mind, whether that ever classified as sane was no worry of his. He'd seen Joel already. Maybe Joel had seen him- the thought making him want to turn away before the mission even starts. He had slept once, and that was all he bothered to remember about how much time had passed, his only gauge seeing as his bruises felt as fresh and numb as when they'd been given. Hawkeye admitted to himself then that he was a sissy, was beyond delicate and unfit for the abuse. He stepped forward and didn't even wave hello.
Saying how do you do seemed stupid even to him, so he stands taller despite wanting to lean and asks, "Would you recognize Ellie's handwriting?" Which he supposes is out of the blue, and he gets that saying a dead girl's name isn't right, but what part of this was? A yes or no question, and a hopeful one at that. What more could he give? He was as powerless here as the rest of them and it wasn't his fault if nobody understood. However, far from being callous and ill-intended, the question fell from his mouth with a respected weight. Hawkeye figured outright sympathy wasn't something Joel wanted from him.
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Oh, he could feel himself just wanting to dissolve into nothing like he had been wanting for days, could hardly convince himself to breathe because it was a simple thing asked of him, and it'd be a quick thing. He could feel his stomach doing backflips, and it was a rare thing. If he wasn't so sure he disliked the man like it was the most natural thing in the world, he might just quip about being in love. The fella was built enough. But no. And who ever thought Hawkeye was absolutely useless, well-- well, damn them. Because he wasn't just exhausted, he was also very tired. And he still moved, still worked. Last he figured, he was also still in his right mind, whether that ever classified as sane was no worry of his. He'd seen Joel already. Maybe Joel had seen him- the thought making him want to turn away before the mission even starts. He had slept once, and that was all he bothered to remember about how much time had passed, his only gauge seeing as his bruises felt as fresh and numb as when they'd been given. Hawkeye admitted to himself then that he was a sissy, was beyond delicate and unfit for the abuse. He stepped forward and didn't even wave hello.
Saying how do you do seemed stupid even to him, so he stands taller despite wanting to lean and asks, "Would you recognize Ellie's handwriting?" Which he supposes is out of the blue, and he gets that saying a dead girl's name isn't right, but what part of this was? A yes or no question, and a hopeful one at that. What more could he give? He was as powerless here as the rest of them and it wasn't his fault if nobody understood. However, far from being callous and ill-intended, the question fell from his mouth with a respected weight. Hawkeye figured outright sympathy wasn't something Joel wanted from him.