How bad would it look if he just let out a string of expletives? Pretty bad, he figures, and it wouldn't change anything or help anything at all, so the string's swallowed and slides down his throat. Hawkeye moves his hand, and thinks of how his left foot's been shaking restlessly, like there was some big suspense in a film in the old mess tent. Sixteen! Right, right, it wasn't anything new. Before the Capitol found how to bring tributes from other worlds, they had pit children even younger against each other, right? That was how it went.

But like hell he'd call a boy who couldn't grow a darker fuzz than what's found in peach skin anything other than a child. Some kids liked to think they were brave, and some were, but. Okay, sure. So he'd found himself wrist deep in the guts of children younger, still, digging for metal parts that didn't belong. Circumstances make a man, but they shouldn't. Sixteen!

Since they're rattling out things that don't matter, Hawkeye offers up, "Yeah? And I'm a Captain."

A second later, he's done with this whole thing, and he's still moving his foot. "So I'm going to take a guess here and say you've never been fishing before. You only... what was it? Textbook learning?"