"Kěpà de yīshēng" Joshua huffed under his breath as he held his bloody side as he had been nailed by a buck shot after a failed attempt of sentry sabotage.
Joshua was unlike the traditional spy, as he doesn't like cloaking or mimicking people's physical forms. He had been granted to showcase his gear testing in hopes of proving his friend on the outside employment. Taking out a few disk shaped attachment, he made a rectangle shape, pressing a button on his watch that cause the disks to melt into the wooden planks. He reached a hand out, watching it disappear through the wall with no resistance. Stepping through, he took a breather in private. 'Where are those damn medkits?'
Joshua glared around, clenching his hand over a weeping wound. Another button to his watch as the disks resurfaced, pocketing them before he turned, halting as he saw a man perched at a high advantage point. His back was turned to Joshua, a siren call for any Spy worth his salt. But Joshua really needed to not bleed out.
But ho, what's this? A beautiful sight a box shaped medical care! There is a god! Carefully treading over, he reached for the medkit, holding the air in his lungs as each movement the unsuspecting man made caused his body to freeze. The moment of contact, the kit disappeared, and Joshua felt instant relief. Now time for a clean getaw- "A-CHOOOO!"
(Combine)☂ Our muses get caught in the rain together. + ☃ My muse gives yours their jacket in the cold.
( Mick - @asktheteufortmercs )
From above a torrent of water poured from the sky in a thick river that was unleashed with a quaking crack of thunder. Soaking the earth below, and all the mercenaries who had begun their march back to the battlements when the end of battle was called. Charles immediately finding himself caught in the middle of it, paused with a displeased glare to the heavens. Condemning whoever was responsible for ruining the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket, and for forcing him to track mud wherever he was going.
Catching sight of a few fleeing bodies darting into the now empty buildings of the battlefield, the lithe bleu followed suit. Using what agility, he could against the slick earth under his feet to quickly run inside. Nearly causing him to run head long into the sniper standing not too far within. Forcing him to catch himself on the gunmen to keep from knocking them both over, with a small apologetic smile.
"Je suis désolé, excusez-moi." Charles quickly apologized, before letting go with a sharp step back. Giving the Sniper room to breathe as he gathered himself in the wake of his embarrassment over nearly trampling the man. Feeling familiar enough with the class to know that most didn't care for spies, and even less for spies taking up their space.
"Forgive me, I didn't see jou zrough ze rain. Zese's mask are far better at collecting water, zen zey are at keeping it out of our faces." He commented with a soft tug at the now drenched fabric clinging to his features. Attempting to keep the conversation light in hopes to smooth over their turbulent introduction; the last lingering encounter with a Sniper on their team leaving him cautious to accidently enrage another.
Reaching for the hem of his mask at the front of his neck, Charles pulled of the soaked garment. Causing his dark wet hair to fall limply across his eyes before he could push it out of his face. The face in question was far younger than most would believe the spy to be. Particularly with the way he held himself as he tucked away his mask with a small assessing glance at the Sniper beside him, before returning his eyes to the rain outside.
"Hopefully it won't last long. I would like to get to ze kitchen before anyone starts a fire attempting cook." Speaking more to himself than the gunmen, as his leather-bound hands idly rubbed together for warmth. Already feeling a chill beginning to seep in as the water begun to settle through the layers he wore. Making him wish he had put more money into getting a sturdier suit.
To his surprise, he felt the sudden weight of something being settled across his shoulders. Drawing the lithe spies' green eyes quickly back toward the Sniper, where he was surprised to find that he had given him his jacket. For a moment stunning him in places before he gingerly pulled the coat closer.
"Merci, tireur d'élite. Are jou sure zough? I would imagine jou bushmen would get cold in zis weazer, non?"
🧥 - to warm your muse by wrapping them in a coat / blanket .
( V )
@asktheteufortmercs
Of all days, or nights, she forgot to bring her jacket. Then again, how the hell should she know that it was getting cold. Weather report says it would be a warm day. Figures. Her shirt isn't exactly warm enough and her hand was getting cold too.
She focused on warming her hand then her arms when she felt warmth envelop her. The color of the coat looked familiar. That's when she saw the Germany flag on the side of the shoulder. Natasha looked to her right and saw it was V, without his jacket.
While his shoulder throbbed briefly from being hit by the wall, it was his leg that got the worse pain from being accidentally hit. Nathan resisted to let out a cry of pain. He didn't plan on Leon to catch him out from bed and wheeling himself to the kitchen. He got hungry and the leftover stew Johnny made was empty so he went to get a snack or more.
It was only when he stood up and stood on one leg, stretching upward to grab something from the cabinet was when he was pressed against the fridge by the Medic.
🤲 - cups my muse’s cheek(s)
😏 - bites or kisses my muse’s neck
It felt great to be walking, and running, again without needing a cane or getting sore. Since those weeks, he felt tired and had gained some weight, it was time to loose them. Starting with a run and boy did that felt good, albeit exhausting and breathless.
Nathan was heading for the showers when he found himself walking in the same halls as Leon is. It's been quite a while since he seen the doctor who did a miracle on his leg and in his head, he thought of going up to him and telling him that he's been doing a lot better now.
As soon as the Sniper was face to face with the Medic, no words has gotten a chance to escape his mouth when Leon cupped his the side of his scarred cheek, tilted his head back, and felt lips against his neck. The pulse on his neck jumped along with his heart. His body stiffened and his eyes widened.
(Forgive me, I'm not completely certain which meme this is from.)
Lazily, Charles bare fingers blindly found the switch to the light in the kitchen. Immediately blinding him with its annoyingly florescent glow, with a dull hum that felt loud compared to the stillness of the night that had settled over the base. His sea green-blue eyes blinking into focus for a moment as his bare feet gently padded toward the stove. Thoughtlessly preheating the oven like he had so many times before, when his restless mind had plagued him with images from the past he would rather forget.
His whole being moving to the familiar steps he had repeated over again as he tiredly reached for his apron. That heavy weight of sleep most certainly being the only thing keeping him from jumping when he heard the unfamiliar voice. Confused, Charles’s fingers paused mid tying as he attempted to make sense of what he was saying. For the moment convinced that he was perhaps still sleeping, because the figure before him was anything but normal.
Finishing the knot he was making to keep his apron in place, the lithe bleu skimmed over the odd stranger briefly again before turning away. Mildly annoyed that he apparently couldn’t escape his nightmares to the point that they were now tricking him to believe he was awake. As if the blood that stained his thoughts wasn’t already enough to be considered torture. Now he couldn’t even be certain if he was safe in the one place he felt most at ease.
“Generally, oui.” He answered sullen while turning his attention to the cabinets to prepare baking. Regardless of whether or not he was awake, Charles figured he might as well focus his attention on what calmed him best. Hoping that if he kept his mind on the muffins he was going to make, this current dream would stay where it was.
“And jou, ami? Pardonnez-moi, but jou look like jou have seen better days. Have nightmares been bozering jou as well?” Charles questioned with a faintly teasing glance over his shoulder at the unfamiliar guest. Playing with the notion that it was sleep that was causing this friend to appear the way he was, instead of being the ghostly image of torments past.
