"Sometimes I feel I'm six inches high." Hawkeye cradles his drink, staring over the bar. "A Gulliver stuck in a Brobdingnag." His eyes struggle to focus as he shakes his head, unable to go on.
BJ begins picking up the broken pieces of Hawkeye, fitting them together until he's whole again.
"I can't do this much longer Beej."
He knows this is true, knows that one day the pieces won't fit back together so nicely, until they don't fit at all. Despite this, he smiles, urging the pain away.
"You can't, but you will."
Hawkeye nods, reaching for another drink.