If anything could have gotten him to shut up, it wasn't the mental image of the alligator or people with wings. It was the insinuation of what had happened to an eight year old girl, and Hawkeye holds his gaze because he felt like he'd been swallowed by something larger than only twenty feet. He wasn't sure if he should deserve the sympathy or be scalded by it, but maybe for the first time he reasoned with it- and that was something he'd regret, maybe, reasoning with the emotion over the words, because he's sure he could whip up a thousand what ifs at his whim. He wanted to have the pressure in his head go away, wanted the sore awareness of his body to fade. Instead he's not sure if he's right in touching a hand to Holiday's arm, but does anyway.

If anything, he's no longer in love with the idea. He says, "I'm sorry," like he's mumbling it because he's not sure if it'll be accepted. He was sorry for bringing this down on her, for having somehow gotten in the mindset that she'd see his way instead of her own. He was sorry, but he was going to still try.

He doesn't draw back his hand. Instead he figures they've had enough of that, and that he's had his daily fill of scare, and he adds, "I'm sorry, but the nightgown's not as nice as I said."