Author's Notes: for future reference, this: *** means a time lapse and this: #### means a change in POV.
The Pyro had ended up spending most of her first day being dragged around the base by Scout and while she appreciated the tour, by the time she finished that, had her medical exam, got herself entered into the base's Respawn system and finally got back to her new room she was thoroughly worn out. After shedding all her various garments, carefully removing all the brightly-colored clips and pins from her short black hair, arranging them by color on her dresser top, and searching around in the boxes of her belongings (mostly stockpiles of weapons and a medley of hats) for her pajamas, she flopped unceremoniously onto her freshly made up bed with a sleepy sigh.
She lay in the dark for a long time, exhausted but unable to sleep, jittery. It was all quiet again and she kept half-hearing things; a creak of the wooden building that sounded like a footstep, a clatter of something falling in the nighttime wind to make her jump in terror. The night refused to grant her sleep and while Pyro would never admit it, she might have been a teeny-weeny bit afraid of the dark, and maybe the quiet too.
Finally giving up after an hour or two, Pyro sat up angrily and glared down at her hands. She couldn't actually see them in the dark, but she could feel the tremor that ran through them. Pyro knew that there would be color too, if she had turned on a light she would see it there, like acid fingers of vibrant smoke, skittering around her vision in an enticing bid for her attention. She loved it, those colors were gorgeous and all consuming, but they were dangerous too: distracting, confusing, delusional and paralyzing. A trap wrapped up in beautiful paper. It had been too long since she had been on the battlefield. The Pyro knew she wouldn't be able to sleep as wound up as she was; she needed to fight or to burn something. Preferably both.
With a defeated sigh Pyro flicked her bedroom light on – she wasn't fool enough to just stumble around in the black – and blinked the darkness away with a relief that she would deny if asked about. There they were, as she'd predicted. Those blasted colors; gaudy, amazing, and at odds with anything that could possibly belong in the real world…except for a flame. She did everything in her power to ignore both them and her shaking hands and looked around at her room. As logic would dictate, it was exactly the same as it had been when she'd turned the lights off: mostly empty save for a few cardboard boxes in one corner, an extremely sturdy wooden-frame bed, a battered-looking dresser with her clips laid out on it as before, and a metal wastebasket. Pyro always kept lots of newspapers around for this reason and she grabbed a few of them from a box. After dumping them into the wastebasket she proceeded to re-dress herself and trotted tiredly out of her room and outside with the trash can and papers.
There was no way she was going to burn anything inside the base, the whole damn place was made of wood and just because she was a nut-case didn't mean she wasn't safety conscious. Besides, burning down the base on the first day after being transferred probably wouldn't be a good career move. Madly, she suspected that they built it all out of wood to tempt her; that seemed like something the Administrator would do.
The vast blue sky from earlier that day had turned ink black and was filled to the brim with stars. Pyro stared up at them in awe as she walked through the nighttime landscape. They were made of fire. Every last one. And each was so huge and so hot and so ancient that the infant flames she conjured up on earth looked pathetic in comparison. Pyro drew herself back to the ground when the spots of light started to swirl together and she forced herself to focus on important things. She was secure in the knowledge that the stars would be there regardless of any event on Earth and long after the Earth itself was gone.
She only set down the wastebasket and newspapers once she was a safe distance from the buildings and surrounded by desert, a short five minute walk. Pyro sat down in the dirt in front of the basket; legs crossed, and took out the papers, stacking them neatly beside her. Taking off one of her gloves and holding her hand up for a moment informed her that the wind had dropped, perfect.
Shakily, but aided by muscle memory, Pyro's hands went through the familiar motions of arranging the papers, selecting a piece, twisting it to form a roll and then lighting the top. If she held it upright it burned a more slowly and she had more time to watch the flames and then drop the charred remains into the metal basket before her friend, that pretty beast, began to lap hungrily at her fingers; although really this was more a practice born of a time long ago, before she had her suit.
The newspapers burned well in the dry air and the fire chased the dark away from Pyro in the vast night. It nibbled and played about the torn pieces of paper as she watched. The colors were drawn into the flame's dance too, as entranced as she was by the beast's grace, They expanded flickering through the air and left her without their distracting feverish presence as they died with each flame. As she viewed the slow incineration of the newspapers, she felt her pent up tension bleed away from her. This was only a little fire, not nearly enough, and undoubtedly the tension would be back with a vengeance tomorrow. Despite this knowledge whispering in the back of her mind, she enjoyed the little kitten-fire that frolicked before her. Soon she could release an inferno and it would hunt.
Pyro sat in the dark with the entrancing basket of flames for almost an hour before she finally ran out of fuel and had to pack everything back up. Once this was done she headed back to her room and, after changing back into her pajamas, once again flopped onto her bed and this time fell asleep almost instantly.
Despite her repeating this routine for the next several nights, her tension slowly built more and more every day that she wasn't in battle
On the second to last day of cease-fire Pyro, having slept in severely, stepped into the canteen at about 12:30 pm, yawning and in desperate need of some coffee. She nodded in response to several versions of "good morning," spoken in various accents and dialects and made a beeline to the counter. Must Have Caffeine. Unfortunately, according to Sniper, the coffee machine was busted. Damn. Coffee was important though and just barely won out over laziness, resulting in her having to settle with making it the old fashioned way. Although that did mean she had an excuse to turn on one of the stove's burners.
More problems arose when she discovered that there was no kettle, it was her own fault really for expecting the base to be properly stocked for anything other than battle. With a sigh Pyro grabbed a pot, filled it with water and set it on the stove to boil.
The REDs were all sitting at a few bulky - indestructible-looking - cafeteria style tables eating lunch and chatting. It was obvious that they'd all been awake for some time. The Pyro noticed upon closer inspection that the Soldier and Scout were missing. She walked over to the group, scribbled her question down on her handy-dandy notebook and showed it to them.
Where are Soldier and Scout?
Heavy was the first to respond, "Little Baby-Scout make Soldier angry. Went to do laps in yard, should be done soon." She spoke matter-of-factly; apparently this was not an all-together uncommon occurrence with the pair.
Several others nodded in agreement and the Demoman shook his head ruefully. "Aye, the lad just can't keep his mouth shut."
"I vould sew it shut myself if I could find somezhink strong enough to hold," added the Medic, prompting a round of laughter from the others. Pyro laughed as well and went back over to the stove to stare at the burner until the water boiled.
Only a few minutes later the aforementioned Scout burst through the canteen door, not at all worse for wear, and zipped over to the fridge. "Jeeze, I figure that jackhole gets off on punishing people. He's definitely got some kinda fetish for it or somethin' ya know?" He asked to no-one in particular, and took the lack of response as an invitation to continue, "I swear, the guy must have some freaky crush on me too, he's always on my case!" The chatterbox affected what passed as a surprisingly good imitation of Soldier's voice, "YOU WILL NOT BE ON MY BATTLEFIELD LOOKING LIKE SUCH A HIPPIE! YOU WILL PUT ON A HELMET, STAND UP STRAIGHT AND KISS ME YOU OH SO DASHING ROGUE!" The Scout threw his arms around himself and pretended to make-out sloppily with someone invisible, his ridiculous performance earned him raucous laughter from his fellow mercenaries.
Just then the real Soldier burst into the room and gave Scout a look so intense that Pyro half expected the boy to burst into flames, part of her hoped he would, just for the fire. "KNOCK THAT STUPID NONSENSE OFF BOY OR I WILL KNOCK IT OFF FOR YOU!" The Scout crossed his arms and glared defiantly while the other mercenaries tried to stifle their giggles with varying degrees of success. The Pyro leaned her back against the counter, what she had learned over that last few days, aside from where to find things she could burn and where all the bathrooms were, was that life at this base was like a sitcom, but with more guns and yelling.
The Soldier whirled to face the rest of his team, face almost as red as his uniform. Apparently all his little training session with Scout had done was make the man righteously pissed off. In fact he seemed to have long since gone straight passed pissed into wild unstoppable rage. Nice job Scout. "WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT YOU LADIES?! IS THERE SOMETHING FUNNY GOING ON? I'D LOVE IF YOU'D ALL LET ME IN ON YOUR LITTLE JOKE!" Behind Soldier's back Scout started making kissy faces, resulting in several of the other REDs grimacing in almost painful attempts to hold in their laughter. "YOU ALL ARE SUPPOSED TO BE A TRAINED, DISCIPLINED, UNSTOPPABLE FORCE! NOT A BUNCH OF TITTERING SCHOOL-GIRLS! THIS IS WAR GOD-DAMMIT NOT A PLAYGROUND! IF YOU DON'T SHUT YOUR RESPECTIVE TRAPS IN 0.2 SECONDS YOU WILL FIND YOURSELVES RUNNING LAPS FOR THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE LIVES!" In response to this threat the Scout wiggled his ass in a disturbingly overdone fashion, dragged his hands down his body and mouthed Take me I'm yours!
The Pyro's resolve cracked and she burst into a fit of laughter. This failure to control herself landed her straight in the cross-hairs. Soldier advanced on her, face nearly purple with rage. "YOU THINK THAT'S FUNNY ROOKIE? DO I LOOK FUNNY TO YOU?! WELL WE'LL SEE HOW FUNNY YOU THINK THIS IS WHEN YOUR LEGS ARE JUST BLEEDING STUMPS AND YOU'RE! STILL! RUNNING! NOT TO METION THAT YOU ARE LATE! I DON'T KNOW HOW THOSE LITTLE GIRLS OVER AT BLU DO THINGS, BUT HERE AT RED WE GET UP AT 0500 SHARP! CEASE-FIRE OR NO!" He continued to yell and Pyro found that his voice had reached a volume and pitch where his words bled together into nothing more than a buffeting wave of noise. He was scarcely feet from her now and still coming. She watched his screaming form with a kind of morbid fascination, riveted by the strange color of his face and his wild gesticulation. The color.
Pyro didn't really care about the screaming, the time she had spent on the battlefield surrounded by constant, deafening sound had desensitized her to it. But now the Soldier was mere inches from her as he jabbed her in the chest with his stubby finger. She looked down at that finger and contemplated the pros and cons of breaking it off and shoving it down the man's throat.
Personal space please sir!
He didn't back up, of course he didn't. Pyro on the other hand was backed up against the counter; she could feel it press into her back painfully as she leaned away from the screaming man. Distantly, she heard someone try to interject, but they were barely noticed. Steam-rolled by Soldier. He leaned into Pyro's face, flecks of spittle spraying the lenses of her gas mask. Pyro made a mistake; she turned her head away petulantly. Soldier made a mistake; her grabbed her by the jaw and forced it back.
Something in the back of Pyro's mind clicked, softly. She reached up and wrapped her fists in Soldier's jacket, causing him to look down at her in surprise. Before he could react further, with surprising strength given her small stature, she yanked the man forward and slammed her forehead into his nose. It broke easily with a loud and bloody crunch. He reeled backward, but she had yet to let go of him and took the opportunity to stamp down on his locked back knee. She threw all of her body-weight into the movement and his leg gave immediately, bending in a way that no leg should.
He fell to the floor and she grabbed the pot off of the stove before snapping to a halt. She was standing over Soldier, holding the pot of boiling water, about to pour it all over him. Pyro could see colors, but they didn't flit as they had all week. The spectral hues clung to Soldier's clothes, his face, his hands. They spread out beneath him, unfurling like a picnic blanket and seeping across the floor towards the walls. Her vision, instead of clouded, was so sharp her eyes hurt. The mercenary could see, but what she saw was grass growing from the wood floor in riotously green crayon slashes and walls that were covered in gingerbread globules and peppermint swirls. The air tinkled like tiny bells and she could hear a faint ticking radiating from the Soldier's chest, as if he were just a thing of clockwork. Not alive. Ok to break. The Pyro was practically wheezing with the effort to keep herself from laughing in hysterical stress. A sick feeling congealed within her guts. Soldier was a teammate, jackass or no. Alive. Ally. Not an enemy. Her teammate. It was a concept that meant something. That had to mean something. A look down at her hands showed that the tremor was back, although now it had reached the point where it was more of a full body tremble. The water sloshed in the pot under the tremor's effects and shakily, Pyro set it back on the stove and stepped away from her injured colleague.
Still shivering with tension and poorly contained rage and hysterics she exited the canteen at a near run.
####
Fights were a routine occurrence here at Gold Rush, where personalities were big, folks were stressed, and tempers were often hot. And a great deal started because of Soldier, who had 'high standards' while at the same time, also possessed absolutely no patience. The RED's had all grown accustomed to this and were normally quite good at breaking up these fights (although sometimes it was just too much fun to watch), after all it was easy to tell when they were about to start. Soldier would get a wild hair up his ass and go after somebody, that person would yell back, there would be a moment of posturing, some more yelling and then the fists would fly and somebody - or several somebodies - would usually step in after a minute or so.
That was not what had happened here and the break from normal routine had caught the team off guard. It was practically just a matter of etiquette that you were supposed to give some kind of warning before beating the life out of somebody.
It wasn't until the Pyro, practically frothing, had bolted from the room that the team snapped out of it.
"Scout, go get my Medi Gun from zhe infirmary." Medic's tone was urgent and Scout did as he was told without arguing. The doctor, who had slipped into damage-control mode, turned to the rest of his team as Scout ran out the canteen's doors and in the direction of said infirmary. Medic looked to the group in front of him and commanded, "Frau Heavy I vant you to go keep an eye on zhe Pyro, I don't vant anyzhink furzher to happen." The Heavy nodded.
"I think it'd be a good idea for me to go too Doc. Maybe I can calm the fella down a bit," piped up the Engineer. The Medic nodded mutely and went over to the Soldier to inspect the man's injuries. Taking that as a sign that the doctor didn't require anything else from them, the pair of REDs left the canteen to try and find the Pyro.
"Is zat really it? A couple of babysitters?" the Spy asked coolly.
"Hmm?" Medic didn't look up.
"Yeah, I hate ta say it, Doc, but Spooky's got a point." Sniper piped up, "I mean the old Pyro was a right knobhead, but at least he never flipped out."
Demo frowned from his seat at the table, "really? I think ye an' I are rememberin' it differently then, lass. The lad completely lost his marbles."
Sniper pulled a face, "yeah… right… well, so he flipped out a little, but he never lost it, ya' know…violent like," she finished lamely.
Then Scout reappeared with the Medi Gun and the doctor snatched it from the boy's hands and strapped it on the instant it was within reach.
Demo caught the boy's attention with a tilt of his head. "Wot in God's name did ye do ta get ol' Solly so wound up laddy?" inquired the Scot when Scout trotted over and sat down next to him. The boy shrugged.
"'s a skill man. It's just what I do ya know?" That comment got him plenty of rolled eyes.
The Medic didn't respond to any of his teammate's chatter until the healing beam was safely trained on the wounded Soldier and some of the tension had eased from the man's face, despite them continuing to talk about the situation around him. With a sigh he finally looked up. "Vould you all please shut up." They shut up. He gave them all a tired look. "Ja, Ja, I get it alright, we've had an exciting turn of events. Soldier vas… vell only slightly angrier zhan usual und zhe Pyro surprised us a bit. If zhis vere zhe real army Pyro vould be dragged outside and shot for such behavior"
Scout snickered, "hate ta break it to ya Krautbreath, but I think you an' me ain't thinkin' of the same army here."
"I believe I just - less than ten seconds ago even - told you to shut up Herr Scout." Medic replied icily. Scout made a zipper motion across his lips and held his hands up in surrender. "Right. Anyvay. Zhis is not zhe army. But regardless, it is probably best not to have friendly fire to zhis extent. I sink I vill speak to bozh zhe Pyro and Solder about controlling zhere tempers." His last statement seemed like it was more to himself than to the team, but then Medic glanced down at his patient's prone form and shook his head wearily. "Honestly you people are just ridiculous. Ve can't even go one veek wizhout incident. You're like a bunch of hippos…"
That earned him more than a few bewildered looks. "Hippos?"
The task to which Heavy and Engineer had been assigned started with locating their wayward teammate, which took less time than they had thought as the Pyro was only a few hallways down rummaging through a storage closet. He looked up as the pair approached him guardedly. The way he had freaked out on Soldier, going from calm and even cheery to violent in a split second was reason enough for caution. They didn't know him well enough to judge what may or may not set him off.
He watched them for a moment, gravely still, colorful but eerie mask disguising whatever he might be thinking, before turning his attention back to the contents of the closet. Engie and Heavy shared a look and Engie took a step forward, moving as slowly as possible, and asked the Pyro, "whatcha lookin' for pardner?" The Pyro looked at him again, this time staring for long enough that Engie started to feel uneasy, before pulling that little notebook out of his pocket and scribbling on it. He showed it to them, moving suddenly and jerkily enough to make the Engineer tense slightly.
A shovel.
"Shovel? What you wanting this for?" asked the Heavy, in as mild a tone as she could manage with her naturally booming voice. She wasn't afraid of this little man who stood only half her height, but she also wasn't about to cause any more trouble if she could avoid it. Not with poor Medic already stressed as it was.
The Pyro regarded them for a moment, as if considering whether he wanted to elaborate or not. Finally, after a rather awkward silence, he sidled up to the pair and held out his hand. Heavy and Engineer exchanged another look and Engie hesitantly reached out to shake the hand, only to have it pulled back. Pyro made an exasperated sound and re-extended the hand, clearly wanting something, but not to shake. After staring at his hand for a moment both of the REDs noticed something at almost the same time. Pyro's hand had a seriously bad tremor. Heavy cocked her head, "hand is shaking?" she asked hesitantly, unsure if this was what Pyro was getting at. Pyro nodded and pulled his hand back, looking at it himself for a moment before going back to the closet, apparently believing this was a good enough explanation. Engineer looked at Heavy with a quizzical expression, asking silently, You got any idea what he's on about? The Heavy, equally confused, shrugged her shoulders in reply.
Engineer considered the situation seriously. The Medic wanted them to keep an eye on Pyro and Pyro was clearly up to something, so the question at this point was, 'Is that something more trouble than it would be to stop Pyro from doing it?' Engineer frowned and glanced at the Heavy, Pyro was unarmed so he and the lovely lady could probably put a stop to anything their new comrade did without much trouble. There was that and the fact that Engineer had a curious mind which automatically set to try to figure out what the hell Pyro wanted with a shovel. After a short internal debate, with the reassuring presence of the Heavy, curiosity won out. He glanced at Heavy and took a step towards the Pyro, "there's an old trench shovel Sol don't use anymore in a closet downstairs. You can use it if ya like, but the catch is me an' Heavy are gonna be keepin' an eye on you alright?" The Pyro nodded and scribbled Which closet? And with a sigh Engineer led the way down stairs.
The Engineer guided the Pyro down to the junk closet, Heavy plodding along behind them. Once there, the Pyro dug into the closet without a word and, after several minutes, he emerged triumphant; shovel in hand. For a long moment he held perfectly still and just stared at the thing, as if something about its very shape were fascinating. It was just when the pair where seriously starting to wonder if they should do something that the Pyro snapped back to life so fast it gave them whiplash. They reeled for a second.
The pyrotechnician turned and made to wander off but was stopped when the Engie clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Wait a minute now, firebug, I wanna talk to ya." Pyro looked down at that hand silently for several seconds and both mercs noticed the way his grip on the shovel tightened ever so slightly. Engineer dropped the hand down and looped the thumb through his belt instead. "How 'bout telling us what you've got planned?" he said in his least chiding voice. The Pyro paused and after a moment took out his little book again. Going out back. The masked mercenary apparently didn't feel like sharing his plans. He turned on his heel to trot off towards the hallway Engineer had lead him through on his first day.
Engineer sighed and Heavy gave him a sympathetic look before trailing ponderously after their odd charge.
The sun was high and the desert air was hot and as dusty as ever. The Engineer and Heavy both had to stop for a moment when they were blasted by the sudden wall of heat that rushed through the door to the outside as Pyro opened it. While the Engineer was more used to the heat than the Heavy was, the contrast from air-conditioned inside to high-noon desert outside was an unpleasant one. Pyro in the rubber suit seemed for the most part unperturbed by the sudden change in temperature. Instead he marched around to the back of the base, Heavy and Engineer in tow, with all the single minded focus of a man on a mission.
The next stop seemed to be the pile of junk wood and scrap that stood out behind the base. If something broke it was left out there. The wood pile was almost a foot taller than the Pyro himself, and came up to just above the Heavy's chest. It contained things like several logs and miscellaneous scrap wood such as broken furniture, crates and barrels. The two REDs watched their masked companion as he inspected the wood, picking things up, looking them over and putting them back or breaking bits off, inspecting those and then tossing them aside. After several minutes of this he loaded his arms with wood – overloaded even, as he had trouble walking without dropping things – and started loping out away from the base and into the desert. He looked around once he was about 50 yards from the main building and dropped his armful of wood before trotting back to the pile and starting all over again. Engineer began to suspect he knew what the Pyro was thinking, but decided that if precaution was taken and it would distract his agitated teammate then there was no need to intervene.
It was at the end of his fifth trip that the Engineer and Heavy offered to help. The Pyro, apparently taken aback, hesitated for a moment before carefully loading up the other two with wood as well as grabbing his own armful. This assistance seemed to provide the required amount and the Pyro didn't make another trip back. Instead, he surveyed the terrain for a moment before choosing a relatively bare spot and dragging the end of the trench shovel through the dirt in a twelve or so foot circle and then repeating the process to make another ring around the first; the finished circles being about a foot apart.
The Heavy and Engineer were left to stand around and watch while the Pyro started digging inside the first circle with Sol's trench shovel. Heavy sighed and settled herself down on a nearby boulder, the only boulder in the area actually, leaving the Engineer standing. He stayed that way for a minute, watched Pyro dig, and made some small talk with Heavy before eventually getting bored. "If we're gonna be stuck out here I'm gonna need a chair, mind watching that one while I'm at the base?" Engie asked, gesturing to the busy Pyro.
Heavy shrugged, "was doing this anyway." Then the Russian Amazon seemingly had an idea and her eyes lit up, "Perhaps if - while looking for chair - you become close to kitchen then you can grab sandvich from fridge?" the way she asked was nonchalant, as if she didn't really care either way, but Engineer had known her for a while and knew politeness and an attempt to avoid imposing on others, despite her enthusiasm, when he saw it.
He smiled and nodded, "sure thing, hoss. I'll get something for all of us to drink too. It's hotter than a June bride in a feather bed out here and with the way that boy's working, he'll get heat-stroke before he's gotten deeper than an inch." With that Engie jogged back towards the base; leaving Heavy to puzzle out his idiomatic phrasing in the hot noon air. He went through the building, relieved by the air-conditioned climate, in the direction of the canteen. On the way he passed the rec room and poked his head in when the shouts reached his ears.
The team was gathered with the exception of the Sniper, and obviously the Heavy and Pyro. Those that were there were lounging on the various pieces of furniture; some watching a sports game (soccer, which was most likely the cause of the shouting and chosen undoubtedly by violent petition from Demo, Medic, and Spy), or playing cards. The Medic was the first to notice Engineer's presence, "how is zhe Pyro doing, Herr Engineer?" he asked mildly. Several of the others looked up, interested in Engie's response.
He rubbed his neck and shrugged, "alright I s'pose, he's got it in his head to dig a great big hole out back. Heavy's got an eye on him."
The Scout was playing Texas hold 'em with a newly uninjured Soldier and a halfway drunk Demoman who kept glancing at the television screen every few seconds. The boy twisted in his chair to face the Engineer, unwittingly giving his opponents a peek at his cards. "The hell's he doin' that for? He gonna make a swimmin' pool or something?"
The Spy didn't need to turn and face his comrades for them to know he had rolled his eyes, they could hear it in his voice, "zhat's an idiotic idea."
"I don't know if he's got the plumbing skills for it Buckaroo, but I'd be impressed if that's what it turns out to be." was Engineer's serene reply before turning to look over the Soldier. "How ya doin Sol?" he asked after a moment.
"HA! AS IF I WERE SISSY ENOUGH TO LET A COUPLE BROKEN BONES PUT ME DOWN. I'M AN AMERICAN!" was the assured response while the Soldier happily cleaned the Scout out. Taking that as an "I'm fine, thanks for asking." Engineer nodded and resumed his journey to the canteen. It made a kind of sense that Soldier wouldn't be put off much by a broken bone or two, with the instant healing of the Medi-Gun and desensitization being what it was. Not to mention the man hadn't the good sense God gave a goose.
After another minute or so he reached his destination and pushed the door open. As Engineer did so the unmistakable scent of clove cigarettes, akin to burning potpourri, hit him. He wrinkled his nose and glanced at the ash tray on one of the tables where the cigarette in question lay, still burning slightly. Engineer sidled over to it and crushed it into the tray with a grumble of "damn spy could at least put it out" before going over to the fridge and popping it open. He grabbed Heavy's sandwich – which, as delicious looking as it was, undoubtedly only remained unmolested due to the fact that it was Heavy's sandwich – along with the six (or rather four and two empty slots) pack of beer from the bottom shelf before snapping the fridge shut again. He also managed to find a canteen in one of the cupboards (he couldn't help but give a chuckle at the idea of finding a canteen in the canteen even if it wasn't all that funny), which he filled in the sink and added to his amassed pile of goods with only a little maneuvering.
He had made his way over to one of the tables and was grabbing a chair when someone came through the canteen door. Engie turned and saw it was just the Sniper. She wrinkled her nose just as he had and gave him a look, before stepping over to him and offering her hand for a shake, he took it and she smiled at him crookedly as she stepped back and leaned against the wall. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of ya since this mornin. How're Heavy an the bone-breaker doin?"
Engineer shrugged as he had before. "Fine. Pyro decided to dig a hole out back, so he's been busier than one-legged man in an ass kicking contest and Heavy's keeping an eye on him."
Sniper laughed at Engineer's southernism and then nodded contemplatively, "maybe he's hot and wants ta make a pool." She speculated, making Engineer laugh himself.
"That's what Scout thought too." Sniper grinned at this.
"Boy's pretty sharp then, I'd say. You takin that stuff ta the Pyro then? I doubt our dear friend will be happy to see her sandwich missin. There'll probably be a bit of skull crushin' when she finds out," she observed with a nod toward the food item in question.
"Probably, 'cept she's the one who asked me to get it for her." Sniper shrugged and there was a silent pause for a moment. Engineer made to pick up the chair and orient it so he could carry everything at once. He nodded to the relaxed sharpshooter and was making his way towards the door when she came and held it for him, "thank you kindly ma'am" he said with another nod, he'd have tipped his hat if he had a free hand.
"Mind if I join ya?" he turned slightly to look at her and saw her normal grin looking a little sheepish. He smiled back at her and she perked up slightly.
" A'course ya can, although I don't really see the attraction of watching somebody dig a hole."
She grinned, nodded, then grabbed a second chair from the table and followed him out with it. As an afterthought she added, "'s probably better than soccer. Oh, and don't call me ma'am; makes me feel like my mum."
"Yes ma'am," he respond earnestly, a remark that earned him a kick to the back of his leg. Damn if even her kicks were well aimed.
####
The kitchen was silent for a few moments afterward. A silence which was interrupted by a subtle hiss and a billow of smoke that appeared in the spacious corner between the refrigerator and the wall. The smoke dispersed quickly, leaving a man in a blue suit and navy balaclava in its wake. The BLU Spy let out a little chuckle, which edged more towards a girlish giggle. Lithely the Spy straightened up from where he had been leaning against the wall and strolled over to the ash tray on the table in order to retrieve his half used cigarette. He re-lit the clove and tobacco blend with a lighter engraved with twin guns before he meandered out of the room and off to snoop.