A suspicious tone. "What're you doing?"
Hawkeye quickly casts a glance over his shoulder. "Oh, hi Frank." Without a word of explanation, he turns back to the project at hand, grunting with the effort of tugging the cot out of place.
"Oh, sure." Frank snaps back. He wanders over to his side of the tent, reaching for a magazine. Within seconds, his curiosity gets the best of him. Wary, he repeats, "What're you doing?"
"Redecorating."
"Redecorating?" Frank scoffs. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever--"
"Careful, Frank." Hawkeye warns, stepping around the still to slip the makeshift bed into its corner. "Or it's your cot next, and I happen to think it looks best in the stove."
Frank turns away, seemingly absorbed in the magazine he holds upside down, fooling neither of them as he curiously glances over. Hawkeye ignores this, brow furrowed as he concentrates. Five more minutes pass, complete with scraping sounds and soft thuds, before he cries out.
"There!"
Frank openly stares. "It's exactly the same as before! You just moved the cots around!"
Setting aside his robe and the newest issue of Nude Monthly, Hawkeye drops onto a cot. "Whatever you say Frank."
If this is what it would take to get into BJ's bed, then so be it.