Of course he feels bad for yelling, but even if he could stomach a biscuit right now all he could taste is corpse smell. The way it got in summer before the morgue trucks came around.

"You keep... dropping things on me like this," Hawk manages to find his tongue at last. Hordes of grade school teachers, lecturers, and fellow surgeons would be amazed he was ever this quiet.

"I didn't..." he just wanted his friend back. Doesn't want Mulcahy cowering, but doesn't want him like this either, this- cold and detached. Was it the war or the ship or the village that made Mulcahy's pilot light sputter out? And that other Hawkeye- it's hard not to feel like he's just keeping some other guy's place in line. Someone, apparently, with all of his flaws, who couldn't stop lusting after a priest for long enough to not have it kill him. He needs a shower. Or to grab the next ferry and make sure they get the right guy next time.

"Why did he-?" was it really Mulcahy and him and nobody else? Not a single other person Hawk could've got attached to? And he never- no, that's insane, he cannot genuinely be wondering why Mulcahy never reciprocated a relationship Hawk doesn't even remember having. Carlye and Tommy and all the other near misses in his life already claw at him.

"I don't want to know this. I don't- why would you do this to me?"