This is your favorite kind of day.
There isn't a breath of wind to disturb the sand settling across the frames of your glasses, it's hot enough out to send scorpions clicking into your boots for shelter, and BLU's Soldier is putrefying at the base of your roost.
You see the cloud of dust first, automatically training your rifle on the glinting dog tags.
You could shoot now, but...
Wait.
You are nothing if not patient.
As predicted, a pair of wildly-flailing legs tumble from the sky, bounding up again like a jackrabbit.
Wait.
The Scout springs a second time, leaving you just enough time to calculate the top of the jump...
Boom. Hea-
You hadn't calculated the possibility of a double-jump.
The Scout didn't drop into the gorge below with half his face missing as you'd originally intended. Instead, he's clutching a what's left of his kneecap, screaming for the Medic.
He'll never fly again, so politely, efficiently, you splatter his brains into the sand.