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๐ธ๐ล๐ฝฮ๐ แต ย ๐๐
๐๐ป. ๐๐ช๐๐ธ๐ป๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐ (๐ฒ๐ซ;๐๐๐๐๐๐) ๐๐๐๐๐๐ (๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐) ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ (๐ฐ๐๐ฃ๐ข ๐ฅ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ข ๐ค๐๐ฏ๐๐ค๐ข) ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ฎ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ถ๐๐๐ (๐ฆ๐ซ๐ฑ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฌ๐ฏ) ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ (๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ : โโโโ | ๐๐๐๐๐๐ : โโโโ | ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐) ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ (๐ญ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฐ๐ฌ๐ซ, ๐ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ซ๐ฆ๐ , ๐ฅ๐ฌ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฑ๐๐ฉ)
un: md
and thinking. He's frowned at the device for longer than he'd ever cared to and he'd ran the wording through his head enough times that you'd think he was about to profess his misguided love to Hotdog or something.]
Do you have any idea how to set up solar panels
[He's mechanically incompetent when he does understand the technology. Now? God, he's as much of a lost cause as ever.]
because I can honestly say I have no idea what I'm doing [Amen.]
2/26 i g i g
yea i'll be right over [ the text comes too quick but he couldn't give a fuck. not when someone actually needs him for something other than a feelings sesh or to tell him to go off himself. (love u jess.) ]
eta 2 minutes. need me to bring anything?
no subject
[Not heard is the wince that comes after. --were solar panels common technology? Did every man know how to set them up, like any real man would know how to change a car tire? Were these things from the 80s? Beyond? How much incompetence did he just give away with his pleasant surprise?
For once he's glad he couldn't be seen. Or heard. Or whatever.
Hiding from time isn't what he's after, no, don't get any wrong ideas but. It might be easy.]
I don't know what you need, I told you I don't know what to do with these things. I'm just the pretty face
we're at the hospital.
no subject
[ a little dig so maybe hawkeye won't get down on himself. or something. he doesn't really analyze the things he says or why he says them as much as people seemed to think. ]
eta 12 minutes then. who's we?
no subject
tell your friend I owe him a drink for all your hard labor
"We". You know, you, me, my mounting doubt and frustrations with the world.
wait you think I had company over? do I look like a party animal to you?
no subject
[ he feels like he's become as paranoid as micro and jessica put together with this whole kilgrave thing, but whatever. he's already on his way. which usually would mean he'd leave it there, but there's something about hawkeye that makes him act a little warmer than he usually might. ]
i don't know dick about this stuff either, really.
i'm just a trained monkey.
no subject
Having company over I mean and being a trained monkey just makes you more intelligent than half the people I worked with for the past three years. real knuckle draggers. and the other half are just finest kind. so I guess I'm past due for some moderation
Now don't take this the wrong way but having a handy man lug his toolbox to my front steps is just about as exceedingly average an afternoon as I can conjure up.
I think I'm kinda proud of myself for that.
no subject
average is good in this place.
enjoy it while it lasts
eta 8 minutes
no subject
Like sinking into the old chair and reclining way back into it, in the reception area of the hospital's front. Seven minutes is enough to close his eyes and hang his head and force a blanket of Nothing over errant thoughts. It's stupidly easy for his breath to even itself out and Hawk already dreads the cat nap as much as he finds himself looking forward to it. He promises himself he'll make sense some day.
Of course, when Frank arrives, he's still not asleep-- but he's in that tried and true half-way point which has long since been dubbed Good Enough.
Some extra light pours into the front desk. Hawkeye genuinely grimaces and curses silently before he opens his eyes, still frowning, as if being woken was Frank's fault and not part of the script at all. The solar panels and battery pack are there, having been neatly dropped off and... not touched after that. And Hawkeye is in his same clothes and still grouching at His Hero when he makes to stand. But first:]
funny thing about being a surgeon.
I'm useless with my hands.
no subject
frank eyes the tech that seems to have been haphazardly dropped off, he knows he can start this job and have david check it. he picks up things more quickly than he'd ever let on, so hawkeye was right to ask for his help. he's also maybe the least likely to ask for something in return. he still feels like he owes a debt to every person here. without being told for once in his stupid life, frank pulls out his device, knowing hawkeye well enough from their previous interactions to know he'll have something witty to say and he doesn't want to miss it.
a surgeon. it's interesting, but he doesn't comment or even let the interest through on his face. "md" was apt after all, maybe not such a stretch. but his fucking username is hotdog so he never knows what people are up to around here. for the most part, he prefers to stay ignorant. ]
yeah well you're gonna have to get handsy if you want my help [ how has frank castle made it this far in life. literally doesn't notice what's wrong with that wording- ] putting these up
[ there's a beat and he looks around, noting the small differences that hawkeye has affected. it'll take a long time if he really intends to fix this place up, but frank will be there every step of the way if he's needed. ]
where do you need the most power?
no subject
His wrath seems placated by the guilty look of Hotdog and he peers curiously at the equipment too, following Frank's gaze as if Hawkeye hadn't spent the past entire day staring at the blue, flat mirrors. It's a surprise that the guy gets his gadget out and Hawkeye has already apparently mastered the look of anticipation of some stereotyped teen girl, leaning his entire upper half over the desk, elbows propping him up, hands at the ready to reply.
He facepalms instead, cradling his head in his two open hands, hair tossed forward by the abruptly hanging head.
Oy vey.
The few seconds hiding from the bastard saves Hawk the embarrassment of-- this. That. Hawk pinches the bridge of his nose. Wills the dry burn found there to ease up some. Bastard did it on purpose and it's a special kind of punishment to be unable to laugh, because for once in a very long, long time, Hawkeye raises his head and looks sincerely, bafflingly amused.
He decides he's keeping him.]
I'm better with my mouth.
[Yapping, yelling, yelping... giving directions, better than taking them. Hawk abandons his desk (and phone, absentmindedly) and strolls down the left hall. He'll pass Frank close enough to get the idea to brush up against him, but won't. Well-- come along, lackey. O.R. is this way.]
no subject
case in point is the text he gets in place of a practical reply for where he wants the panels. frank blinks a few times, then reads his own message back and cracks into a wide grin. he really hadn't caught onto the innuendo in that moment, and that somehow makes it even funnier. when hawkeye abandons his device and comes close, frank pockets his device and anticipates the contact that never comes. he doesn't let it throw him for long, following closely at the other man's heels. his previous trips to the hospital had been quick and dirty supply runs, but now he's taking the time to catalogue everything he sees.
the operating room had definitely seen better days, but it's a good place to start, he thinks. he glances over at hawkeye to get his assessment. ]