@unflappable-red
He wasn’t sure- Dust? He hadn’t gone to bed outside, since that wasn’t normal-was it? And it was chillier than he’d expected, the kind of cold you felt more in your nerves than on your skin. There was a clammy sort of panic in his bones. He didn’t know why.
Fighting the urge to curl against the cold, he opened his eyes. Dust. Sand? It was everywhere. And somebody’d abandoned a hard hat a few feet away. There was something wet inside it catching grit as the wind whipped by. He didn’t get a chance to look closer.
Somewhere nearby a boot crunched gravel and he turned. It seemed he wasn’t all alone out here. Small mercies. The fella was awfully tall, with a weatherbeaten look and about the biggest knife he’d ever seen. It was a knife wasn’t it? Shorter than a sword- what was that called?He cleared his throat and tried to put his best foot forward from his uncomfortable sprawl on the ground. “H-howdy there, Mister. Can you tell me what happened? Did you see um…” How I got here? Where here is?
Another question died on his tongue as he thought of it. Now that he wasthinking about it, there was a distinct lack of recognition for, well, anything.Who am I?
In this business of war, there are times where you find bodies not quite as dead as they seem. In the chaos of yelling, shooting, and running to and fro, sometimes there is simply no time or pressing incentive to check. Once in a while a prone body could be stumbled across with a few bullet holes, without the more obvious symptoms of the deceased like decapitation or overwhelming dismemberment. Nine out of ten times they’d already be dead from blood loss or vital organs being hit. The Sniper is not known for taking chances.
Oftentimes he slides the edge of his machete along their soft throats, a moment of his time to make sure they were sent to re-spawn instead of the med bay. He does not check to see if they really were alive.
The Engineer was going to be another one of these cases, nothing but another body hauled up by the collar and quickly cut. But then he got up.
Cecil ends up halting at the stuttered half-questions, more at the possibility of retaliation than the confusion itself. It hardly mattered to him what the Engineer felt, though his apparent lack of recognition has him immediately and deeply suspicious. The submachine gun was missing from his side today, his only option would be to lunch if the other decided to pull a pistol. Fist curling tighter around the handle of his machete, he peers through reflective lenses. Simply looming above the Texan’s spot on the ground, trusting the distant gunshots to answer in his stead.
