[He's a man accustomed to easy living, sorry. The long forgotten smirk slides its way back to his face and despite how lifeless and dreary everything is, Hawkeye thinks...he feels okay. Sure, his heart's going to give out from running a mile a minute eventually but in the meantime
getting drunk is welcome. (When isn't it?)
He sips and peers curiously at his comrade. Ah-- the realization is a little slow to come, but then Hawkeye nods. House Six. Sure. He's not sure he exactly counted which was which when he was out strolling and surveying his new prison but
but
then Frank is pointing at him and doing that thing with his brows and Hawkeye knows he's supposed to fucking keep it together but it's like every stupid part of him (of which there are plenty) screams to--
he sits straight, eyes wide in surprise, puffs his chest in slight indignation, brings that right hand up to himself once more to clutch at the fabric right below his collar. How dare you, sir!
"I'm not that easy" he proclaims, all the while slinking forward so his elbows rest on the table and the whole of him kinda melts into the gesture and he'd be purring, if he could. Because he has no brains and he's not even drunk but whatever. "Showing you to my room on a first date, I'm not that kind of a gal."]
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getting drunk is welcome. (When isn't it?)
He sips and peers curiously at his comrade. Ah-- the realization is a little slow to come, but then Hawkeye nods. House Six. Sure. He's not sure he exactly counted which was which when he was out strolling and surveying his new prison but
but
then Frank is pointing at him and doing that thing with his brows and Hawkeye knows he's supposed to fucking keep it together but it's like every stupid part of him (of which there are plenty) screams to--
he sits straight, eyes wide in surprise, puffs his chest in slight indignation, brings that right hand up to himself once more to clutch at the fabric right below his collar. How dare you, sir!
"I'm not that easy" he proclaims, all the while slinking forward so his elbows rest on the table and the whole of him kinda melts into the gesture and he'd be purring, if he could. Because he has no brains and he's not even drunk but whatever. "Showing you to my room on a first date, I'm not that kind of a gal."]