#8, K: Sniper, Spy
Sniper stares at his team's Spy. He is standing stock still, staring at one spot on the wall, jaw clenched. Sniper approaches (slowly; always go slow with frightened animals) and raises a brow. "What is it?"
"Une araignée," Spy murmurs.
Still confused, Sniper looks down. "That little thing?" It is a spider, dark brown, smaller than the tip of his pinky finger. "It's nothing."
"Je déteste—" He catches himself. "I hate them."
Sniper shrugs, takes off his hat, and moves the spider outside. Spy visibly relaxes, and he silently tucks a cigarette into Sniper's breast pocket. "Merci."
"My pleasure."