"I'll keep it to two to start with. Why are we obliterating your memories, and what are we hoping to actually target?"
Having already poured, she relaxes back in her seat, one of her legs crossed. There's a story here, one she's ready to be sworn to secrecy too if needed.
"Lucky for you, they both have the same answer," and Hawk drapes himself across the couch without moving any of the clothes also draped on it.
"I just fumbled a flirtation so badly that if I was a racehorse, they'd shoot me. It was Phil, we were in the hot springs, he has a body like a Greek statue and I didn't see he was a widower until I'd already committed to commenting on that body."
Yes, there are multiple people with wings here, but there's only one in that number named Phil who also fits the category for a widower with a beautiful figure. Does he just feel painfully awkward about it?
"On its own, that's not a life altering problem of a thing to say, Hawkeye. People don't stop being open to flirtation after they lose someone."
"That's him. And I know that," Hawkeye scoffs, "I only made a pass at him at all because I saw you kiss him. I just- I saw the ring and I tripped up." He rubs a hand over his face.
"Usually I just make an off-colour comment and they go with it if they're into it, but I think I just made him uncomfortable. He- he was a good sport about it, we're having coffee at some point, but- I don't know. I think I've forgotten how civilian flirting works."
There's a little glance of her eyes away when he mentions he saw her kiss him - she wonders if he had been close enough to hear them talking - but that's not the issue here. Nor is it that the hot springs are apparently one of Hawk's favorite places to take his chances.
"It's generally done at a walk, not the leaps and bounds one takes while dancing closer to death." She's throwing them both under the cart there with that one. "If it was as bad as you think it was, you wouldn't have an invitation to coffee. Phil's not really the sort to agree to that without meaning it."
So, he feels bad about it. It'll be fine. Some consolation, a bit of encouragement for whenever they remeet, and he'll be on his feet again.
She is so glad she wasn't drinking when he said that, or she would have choked. Several thoughts flicker through her head like flashes of lightning, but she lets the silence speak for itself before she finally replies.
"You asked Phil if he made bird noises in bed."
Measured, careful with each word. Looking at him, waiting for eye contact.
"That's the plan," he affirms, tilting his head back to rest on the back of the couch.
"He's a great guy and I like talking to him. And it's not like I didn't fumble with any of the nurses back at camp either. I have to get rejected every so often- keeps me humble."
A deep exhale, and there's a few beats before he props his head back to take another sip. Pretty good wine, he forgets that alcohol is meant to taste like more than paint stripper.
"What do you mean, what's the story? We met in that place before, that infernal cruise ship."
She's dodging the question, she knows. But she's not sure of the etiquette to be discussing this at the same time as she's trying to encourage Hawkeye to think not all hope is lost.
"Anyway, you've got a very easy path to success when you remeet. Be your usual self, just refrain from bringing sex up in any possible way unless he clearly does first. Keep that off the table for now, and he'll know you like the conversation as well as his body. There, I've bestowed upon you divine wisdom."
"And I need to brush my teeth twice a day and wash behind my ears, thank you mother," he'd gotten that far at least, "but you'll need to pick between 'my usual self' and 'not bringing up sex'."
Hawk knows what kind of animal he is. Speaking of, now he's looking pretty intently at Fever.
"So what, you just met and you're on kissing terms?"
"Did I come over here to console you or to get quizzed? You do need to be more clear next time."
She gestures with her free hand, but it's all theatrics.
"No, that's not the case. It..." One breath. "Fine. Whatever questions you've been storing up since that day, ask them. I know 'what's the story' isn't the only one."
"I'm not storing up questions," he raises both hands in mock-surrender, "you can kiss whoever you want. You're the one who got defensive. Just intellectual curiosity."
And maybe they look good kissing, that's just an observation he's keeping for himself.
She's about to reply that she's not defensive, except that's exactly the sort of thing a defensive person would say. So Fever shuts her mouth, and starts over.
"As I said. It was back on the ship. Phil'd been there a lot longer than me, when I arrived - I noticed him, knew his name, a bit of who he was close to. Everyone was in everyone's business, it felt like, or at the least we were clustered together in such a way that it felt like it. Then after a point, after one of the myriad terrors we were made to go through, Phil and I started talking. And I found out the same as you, that he's a great person, that I wanted to talk to him more."
Someone she wanted to spar with, to laugh with, to watch fly as if he was one with the sky. To be his friend, regardless of desire's presence or absence. And then Phil had reached in to show her how he could dispel her magic, and cracked her open somehow in the process. She doesn't know how else to describe it other than a hand coming to clasp another and holding on. Someone who said, I know.
"So, we kept on. Into such terms as you witnessed."
Her expression has shifted, and she doesn't realize it. From the feigned outrage down into something quieter, more true. Not quite smiling, but not somber.
It's interesting. Fever is usually pretty upfront about everything, not bashful or demure. The real hesitancy she shows is... obviously he wants to dig more, 'such terms as I witnessed and just that?'
But this isn't the army, as he's been reminded. Crassness and bluntness may have been fine talking with Trapper, but this is his friend talking about someone she very clearly cares about.
So he eases off.
"It was a good talk, until I ruined it," he offers, "it was the most and least I felt homesick since I got here. Has this way of getting you to open up."
"Yeah," she agrees, glancing at her mug, her lips finally tugging back up into a smile. "Could have warned you. Kind enough to break your heart." Unless, unless, it was already built utterly wrong. Warped. Cold. "He's dangerous like that."
It's not the sex that holds Fever back from speaking. It's that she knows well enough she doesn't really have a word for where they stand. That though they had wordlessly affirmed it on the Stag Beetle, she's hesitant to put a specific name to a thing where the wrong word could mean giving Hawkeye the wrong impression.
"...I'm very glad he made it here. He's someone I was hoping survived. That's the actual story."
"I'll say," he agrees to the comment about Phil being dangerous, which is the closest he's coming to commenting on Phil's build again. Where do they make people like that.
Anyway.
There's a moments pause again, and Hawk asks-
"Do you want me to ease off him? Just- say the word, no questions asked, if... you know. Not like I have to have him for my dance card."
Fever shakes her head to that, looking back up at him.
"If you like Phil, go ahead. You don't need my blessing for it - we're obviously not 'I for thee and thee for me', after all. It'd be strange for me to be jealous."
Nothing feels amiss thinking about it. She begrudges no lover of hers whoever else they seek out, for nothing was implied that she should, no bond or pledge that asked such a commitment. That both of the others in this case happen to know her? She can vouch for each of their characters.
"And you're also proving you have excellent taste."
"Of course I do. I'm going out with you, aren't I?"
He does have some charms, buried somewhere in him. But more than anything, the understanding eases his heart, in the way it seems to keep being eased here. No begrudging, no secrecy, no jealousy, no getting slapped, no fake stories about being married or engaged, just people doing as they want. Following where their heart and other organs lead.
"Y'know, this is the first time I've ever had to have that conversation with a woman about a man?" he notes.
He gets a little laugh at the compliment. It feels comfortable, to be able to sit and discuss this with him. But it's also a feeling she can't name that Hawk'd ask at all in the first place, be willing to move away even though she doesn't control Phil nor who he might pursue. Paying respect to a feeling that could have been there. It's a feeling that would make Fever want to kiss him, if she wasn't enjoying the conversation and wine this much.
"No, I didn't know that. What about with a woman about a woman?"
"If any of the nurses were going around with other nurses, I didn't know about it. Or at least, they didn't tell me about it."
Probably a good idea considering the time and place.
"And not with a man about a man either, to be clear. Wasn't a lot of talking about our same sex liasons back home. The less talking the better, actually. I uh- don't know what it's like for you back home, but where I'm from, the government isn't a very big fan of sodomy."
Her eyebrow raises, the confusion quick to spread across her face.
"The government? The only people who really care about who's in whose bed in that sense would be...I don't know, nobles who care about their bloodlines."
Beyond that, people were with who they chose. Why in the Nine Hells would the government be caring about what people did like that?
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Having already poured, she relaxes back in her seat, one of her legs crossed. There's a story here, one she's ready to be sworn to secrecy too if needed.
cw flippant reference to animal death
"I just fumbled a flirtation so badly that if I was a racehorse, they'd shoot me. It was Phil, we were in the hot springs, he has a body like a Greek statue and I didn't see he was a widower until I'd already committed to commenting on that body."
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Yes, there are multiple people with wings here, but there's only one in that number named Phil who also fits the category for a widower with a beautiful figure. Does he just feel painfully awkward about it?
"On its own, that's not a life altering problem of a thing to say, Hawkeye. People don't stop being open to flirtation after they lose someone."
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"Usually I just make an off-colour comment and they go with it if they're into it, but I think I just made him uncomfortable. He- he was a good sport about it, we're having coffee at some point, but- I don't know. I think I've forgotten how civilian flirting works."
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"It's generally done at a walk, not the leaps and bounds one takes while dancing closer to death." She's throwing them both under the cart there with that one. "If it was as bad as you think it was, you wouldn't have an invitation to coffee. Phil's not really the sort to agree to that without meaning it."
So, he feels bad about it. It'll be fine. Some consolation, a bit of encouragement for whenever they remeet, and he'll be on his feet again.
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"You asked Phil if he made bird noises in bed."
Measured, careful with each word. Looking at him, waiting for eye contact.
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She'll get her eye contact.
"In my defense, I thought it'd make him laugh if it didn't work."
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Sipping. Not breaking that stare.
"Gods."
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"To Hawkeye Pierce. All charm, all the time."
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She takes another drink and shifts her position, turning more towards him so she can look at him easier.
"But you're still going to meet him for coffee, yes?"
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"He's a great guy and I like talking to him. And it's not like I didn't fumble with any of the nurses back at camp either. I have to get rejected every so often- keeps me humble."
A deep exhale, and there's a few beats before he props his head back to take another sip. Pretty good wine, he forgets that alcohol is meant to taste like more than paint stripper.
"What's the story with you and him, anyway?"
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She's dodging the question, she knows. But she's not sure of the etiquette to be discussing this at the same time as she's trying to encourage Hawkeye to think not all hope is lost.
"Anyway, you've got a very easy path to success when you remeet. Be your usual self, just refrain from bringing sex up in any possible way unless he clearly does first. Keep that off the table for now, and he'll know you like the conversation as well as his body. There, I've bestowed upon you divine wisdom."
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Hawk knows what kind of animal he is. Speaking of, now he's looking pretty intently at Fever.
"So what, you just met and you're on kissing terms?"
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She gestures with her free hand, but it's all theatrics.
"No, that's not the case. It..." One breath. "Fine. Whatever questions you've been storing up since that day, ask them. I know 'what's the story' isn't the only one."
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And maybe they look good kissing, that's just an observation he's keeping for himself.
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"As I said. It was back on the ship. Phil'd been there a lot longer than me, when I arrived - I noticed him, knew his name, a bit of who he was close to. Everyone was in everyone's business, it felt like, or at the least we were clustered together in such a way that it felt like it. Then after a point, after one of the myriad terrors we were made to go through, Phil and I started talking. And I found out the same as you, that he's a great person, that I wanted to talk to him more."
Someone she wanted to spar with, to laugh with, to watch fly as if he was one with the sky. To be his friend, regardless of desire's presence or absence. And then Phil had reached in to show her how he could dispel her magic, and cracked her open somehow in the process. She doesn't know how else to describe it other than a hand coming to clasp another and holding on. Someone who said, I know.
"So, we kept on. Into such terms as you witnessed."
Her expression has shifted, and she doesn't realize it. From the feigned outrage down into something quieter, more true. Not quite smiling, but not somber.
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But this isn't the army, as he's been reminded. Crassness and bluntness may have been fine talking with Trapper, but this is his friend talking about someone she very clearly cares about.
So he eases off.
"It was a good talk, until I ruined it," he offers, "it was the most and least I felt homesick since I got here. Has this way of getting you to open up."
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It's not the sex that holds Fever back from speaking. It's that she knows well enough she doesn't really have a word for where they stand. That though they had wordlessly affirmed it on the Stag Beetle, she's hesitant to put a specific name to a thing where the wrong word could mean giving Hawkeye the wrong impression.
"...I'm very glad he made it here. He's someone I was hoping survived. That's the actual story."
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Anyway.
There's a moments pause again, and Hawk asks-
"Do you want me to ease off him? Just- say the word, no questions asked, if... you know. Not like I have to have him for my dance card."
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"If you like Phil, go ahead. You don't need my blessing for it - we're obviously not 'I for thee and thee for me', after all. It'd be strange for me to be jealous."
Nothing feels amiss thinking about it. She begrudges no lover of hers whoever else they seek out, for nothing was implied that she should, no bond or pledge that asked such a commitment. That both of the others in this case happen to know her? She can vouch for each of their characters.
"And you're also proving you have excellent taste."
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He does have some charms, buried somewhere in him. But more than anything, the understanding eases his heart, in the way it seems to keep being eased here. No begrudging, no secrecy, no jealousy, no getting slapped, no fake stories about being married or engaged, just people doing as they want. Following where their heart and other organs lead.
"Y'know, this is the first time I've ever had to have that conversation with a woman about a man?" he notes.
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"No, I didn't know that. What about with a woman about a woman?"
It's very possible, in her view.
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"If any of the nurses were going around with other nurses, I didn't know about it. Or at least, they didn't tell me about it."
Probably a good idea considering the time and place.
"And not with a man about a man either, to be clear. Wasn't a lot of talking about our same sex liasons back home. The less talking the better, actually. I uh- don't know what it's like for you back home, but where I'm from, the government isn't a very big fan of sodomy."
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"The government? The only people who really care about who's in whose bed in that sense would be...I don't know, nobles who care about their bloodlines."
Beyond that, people were with who they chose. Why in the Nine Hells would the government be caring about what people did like that?
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cw reference to psychiatric hospitalization
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wrap here?
wrap.