(🔇 for the sender to tell the receiver to be quiet) Jane was pressed into the corner between two large crates full of who knows what, trying almost pointlessly to shove an angry looking raccoon into his coat. He knew damn well he shouldn't be in any BLU owned territory during ceasefire, but a man has to do anything to rescue his troops. (jane-r-doe-rp)
@jane-r-doe-rp
Lazare just needed a breath of fresh air and a break from a few teammates. This is more than what he bargained for. In fact, this isn’t what he bargained for at all!
After some quiet, confused stammering, Lazare manages to shut his mouth and nod. Before he can even ask himself if this Soldier even knows American sign language, he begins speaking with his hands. Being told to hush isn’t going to stop Lazare from talking.
’What are you doing?!’ he signs, exasperatedly. He’s not going to fight a man who seems to be more interested in wrangling that poor animal than him, but this man can’t be sticking around, lest something bad happen to either him or to Lazare, for allowing such trespassing.
With the force of that handshake, the rest of Lazare shakes in turn as he stares kind of owlishly at Jane. Some part of him always hopes he can get away with his little trans jokes without anyone catching them, but… wow, is he, too? Is Lazare hearing him right?
Slowly, he dares to smile, warmly, nervously, before clapping a hand over his mouth at what Jane says after that, his eyebrows shooting up, too. How does this keep happening to him? Do people want something from him? Hello?
But Jane doesn’t seem the type. And even though he just confessed to telling untruths about the Beatles for an hour, that other things he says aren’t always accurate, Lazare can’t see Jane lying about this. Or about his intentions surrounding it. And as Lazare stands in silence, trying to process how he got from watching this person wrangle a raccoon by a dumpster to here in less than half an hour, he decides that he’s glad that someone simply appreciates his looks, with no signs of incoming inappropriate comments, touching, or any expectations to go further. He’s had some bad, awkward, unsavory moments while working at this company.
His own shy staring at Jane earlier, for no reason other than that visual appreciation, also helps him trust Jane’s insistence that he’s not flirting. Lazare wasn’t.
“You, too,” he starts softly. “You caught me staring, after all.” Something visibly pops into his head, and with a grin, he teases, “Ah, but how much of me are you able to see under that helmet?”
Face flushing slightly at the comment, his head turns slightly away, a bit nervous. Normally when people tease him about his helmet he doesn’t care much, but this seemed a lot less like an insult than usual and he wasn’t sure how to take it. “…Enough. More than people think.” He glances back at him, internally debating with himself. “I might have snuck a look earlier.” He admits, teasing back. “How is it the Spy was caught being sneaky but the Soldier wasn’t?” His grin turns sly, moving to put the empty leftover container in the sink.
"I'll believe it. Otherwise, I think I would've seen you running into things more often, heh."
His face feels a bit warm, and a hand reaches to rub at the back of his neck, but he laughs again when it's Jane's turn to tease. "A question for the ages. Maybe it's because it is expected for Spies to sneak, therefore your guard stays up, you observe the Spy as carefully as the Spy has to observe their surroundings, but a Soldier is shielded from being found out because no one can envision them sneaking in the first place."
Ooh, and he puts his dishes in the sink? Some of the people Lazare is stationed with don't, unfortunately.
He glances out a window, continuing idly but thoughtfully, "Class stereotypes affect how we all see each other a surprising amount, I've noticed."
