"Fix it." That was the only verbal exchange between them as the Engineer set off to work, knowing better than to ask how the Spy busted his fancy-schmancy cloaking device for the umpteenth time. For a guy who was so keen on keeping his clothes dirt-free, he had one helluva love-hate relationship with technology.
The first couple of times, the Spy always wandered out the door within the minute. The Engineer got to thinking that this sort of stuff bored the cultured man to death. He couldn't blame him. Clicking a button was far simpler than understanding the inner workings of a gem like this. He whistled a happy little tune to himself.
By the third visit, the Spy had taken to making himself as comfortable as possible on one of the old crates. Much to the Engineer's amusement, the Spy just had to pick one of the boxes labeled 'fragile'. And guess what the arrow was pointing at? Yeah, he let out a chuckle and earned himself an indignant scowl.
Half a dozen drop-ins later, they began to engage in small talk. The general "how's the weather?" starter was replaced with "who's topping the scoreboards?" More often than not, that honor belonged to the Heavy and sometimes the Demoman. The Spy began squabbling about how he would do better if they were judged on finesse as well as mindless bloodshed. The Engineer took it in stride and remembered to nod each time his comrade's inflection changed.
"Fix it." The Engineer swiveled around in his chair, by now used to this formulated process. He paused.
As much as he wanted to take a look inside at that damnable contraption, the Engineer spoke the honest truth, "Spah, your sapper ain't broken."
Yet the Spy insisted. "Fix it."
"... That's mighty generous of you."