"It's like --" Hawkeye falters for a moment, and a moment is enough. "It's like the thunder, without the rain."
He waves at the room in vague drunkenness.
BJ cocks his head. "You're drunk."
Staggering on, oblivious or disregarding, it's hard to tell. "There's no rain, but the thunder keeps crashing." Once upon a time -- or was it today? -- there was a prince -- princess -- king -- peasant --
"Hawk?" A touch, a struggle to jar a man back into reality.
He forgets now, forgot years before. Reaching for a glass, he hopes to fill the emptiness.