Hawkeye flirts almost the way he breathes, often unconsciously. For the most part he doesn't mean anything by it, especially now. She's a patient and for all that he ignores authority most of the time, he does know where to draw the line. He'll make sure she eats something, gets back to her room okay, and then he'll leave her in peace.

He is, however, determined to at least crack a smile out of her before he leaves her.

"No wine," he says regretfully, shaking his head. It's a hospital, not a bar, and the best she can hope for is some juice. He's pretty sure there's a vending machine with soda in it somewhere down the hall, but that's no good for her either. "I don't know if the big red cross out the front tipped you off or not, but this is a hospital."

Hawkeye waits for her to sit before he slides into the seat across from her, leaning forward on his elbows to watch her. She looks so much like Aurora it's unsettling. The major difference, he notes, is in the way she looks at him, and that's interesting for several reasons. He's used to the way Aurora looks at him, that hint of a smile, the fondness in her eyes. He's still learning his way around her, too, but he's more likely to find humour or curiosity in her eyes than the woman in front of him. She's looking at him with something approaching derision or impatience, which is so different it amuses him a little.