Who's a Spy? (Team Fortress 2 - Scout) - HIATUS

Infirmity!

"Well I'd reckon we wake her up."

"Man, just let 'er sleep. She ain't use for da team n'yways."

"Hm hmd hem hmn gm hm?" 

"Maybe she oughtta 'ave a thing for sleep walkin'.."

"Hm hm-hm?"

"It's when you're alseep, but your feet'r 'wake."

Today was the day in which the RED team's vacation was at its final end. This afternoon was a calling for a trip to the badwaters, a hefty quest of payload. It had only been announced shortly following the first rays of the sun; a sworn schedule most likely molded in the zealous Administrator's brain.

In the few hours after, the team had finally awoken, all but for one member.

"Why is baby men all on roof???" Vodka's exasperation had knotted his brows up towards the roof as he emerged from the inside. "Heavy is TOO HEAVY to join! GAAH!"

A clap of elastic to a hand had alerted all beside the girl who lay sleeping to the unwonted air of the doctor standing at the entrance of the window. His seemingly farcical gaze had longingly rested on unconscious Ava. "Time to replace her h-"

"I think not," the spy had suddenly uncloaked behind the medic. "Not right now." Contemptuous in his steps he slowly made his way to the object of attention, and, leaning over, "Foolish insect has gotten a cold!" Disappointed, he cloaked and scuttled away.

The scout, in the circle, had finally regained his equanimity after the incident of last night. He crossed his arms in pure relief, a brief exhale from his mouth escaped as he calmly closed his eyes. "Hah, c'mon, fellas. This ain't too much ta worry 'bout-"

"AVA, IS SICK?? OH NOOO!" Heavy cried from below. 

"Besides," Scout continued, "we've crushed 'em da last few games in a row!" 

"THE SCOUT IS RIGHT." The distant voice of the soldier had trailed from the dining room, followed by a clink of his bottle with the demoman.

"Mh hm m hkm hrm hm hr?"

"She can take care 'a herself!" 

In reply, the pyro had sunken his head in flurried disappointment. Concealed and buried in his arms, he slowy tucked away the white plastic of his very own nurse's hat that he had earlier stolen from the medic's cabinet. In a last bit of protest he called, "Mbhm-"

"Buuuuut nothin'," Scout had cut him off by a hand. "Look, Mumbles, if you wanna look afta her, fine by me. I'll be clearin' the battlefields." 

"Now I don't think so, boy... I'll be needin' this here mumble's help." Then, kneeling toward Ava, Dell continued, "Best choice is we'd oughtta stay for another day. That'll fix 'er."

"How's about da 'Ministrator, huh? Whaddya th-"

"We just don't show up." The team had turned to the presence of Mr. Mundy sitting on the bed behind them, his aquiline features a still idleness. "If there's not gonna be an opposin' team, then there is no game. So we'd best keep lyin' down for one mo' night."

Dell added, "And while we're at it, let's not make ourselves worthless n' help the girl to bed." He gently took a hold of Ava's arms and gave a brusque, awaiting stare at the scout.

"W-what?" he shook his head. "Oh, alright. This ain't fair." He held her damp legs as if he were carrying logs, and in turn he maliciously glared at the pyro, skipping after them while only holding the blanket. He was wearing his nurse's hat.

----------

"Good old grilled payback is what it is, son."

"Whose brilliant idea was it dat I'd wanna do this? Yo, c'mon." 

"Do this and you and I are even. It was either you done this or the rat extermination with Smokey over there." 

"Fine..!" The door to my room had bursted open and in came Scout, viciously staring at a damp cloth in hand and a purple medicine in the other. "Stupid cowboy...."

"What was that??" Roared Dell's voice from the hallway. "Don't test my mettle, son!" 

Right beside me was Pyro, in a high, deep-blue swivel chair. No sooner had I noticed him he quickly jumped off of his seat and lifted my pillow to fluff it, taking each and every valuable second to volumize all sides of it before returning to his chair. Slowly he turned it to face Scout.

With a chaffing finger, he laughed, "HM!! HM HM HM HM HM.. HM-HM-HM!!" 

"Put a sock in it, Mumbles," Scout hissed. "Look, I ain't doin' any 'a this. Tell ya what, Campfire, you take care 'a her for me, and it's free ice cream for a week."

Pyro had crossed his arms. "Hnmy hmfr?"

"Any flavor," Scout nodded. "You got it."

"Hmmny?"

"Any."

"Hm hn hmmmmn?"

"Look, do ya want da sweets or not?" 

"Hm!" Pyro, in a sudden paroxysm of nods, cheerfully agreed. 

"Alright, see this?" Scout handed him the damp towel. "You gotta put it on 'er forehead 'n change it every hour."

"Hm hm hn hmncm?" He pointed to the medicine. 

"Read the back of it 'n find out." He tossed the liquid and thankfully the pyro had caught it. Scout contently made his way to the door and saluted, "See ya, Candles," and shut the door.