In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Twenty-Two: Yo-hoh and a Bottle of Brandy

        "Whoa-hoh-hoh, ain't this a treat?" Scout compliments both me and Miss Pauling as we hop onto the back deck and over the barrier of the trawler while he and Sniper untie the rope from the dock. "Looking fine, you two. Y'know, Miss Pauling, wearing a one-piece really accentuates your hips."

Miss Pauling pushes up her glasses and takes out her wetsuit jacket from her bag. "Okay, Jeremy."

"Thanks, but I'm not interested," I apologize and pat him on his bare shoulder.

"Not interested? C'mon, I even got scars, and the ladies love the scars." Scout begins to flex, and I stare blankly at his bare chest and lanky arms. His dog tags clink together as he moves. "How could you not be interested?"

"When you have the doctor and Tavish o'er there looking like that? I'd give it up mate." Sniper takes his sunglass off of his shirt and slides them on his face, lugging around his case for his rifle. "But, if I took off me own shirt, it'd be over for you and your scars."

"Then do it, Mick," Scout challenges.

"I'm keeping myself from embarrassing you any more than you already have."

"I also have scars, Jeremy, three," I point to two of them on my stomach. "I don't see any ladies."

Sniper pokes Scout's chest on his gunshot scar, he and Miss Pauling going into the small lower level room. Scout puts his hands on my shoulders from behind me. "You, uh, you really do look great in that bikini though, Accomplice... Purple suits you."

"Y'all ready?" Engie calls from the upper level.

"Yeah, let's get this show on the water," Scout calls back.

The boat jolts and I stumble into Scout. Engie yells again. "Sorry 'bout that!"

"I should... I should go up there," I suggest.

"Better if you stay down here, this is where the gun show is at, baby," Scout teases, turning his hat backward. I roll my eyes and brush his arms off, heading toward the deck. "Alright, fine. Don't say I didn't warn ya when I tell you it's just a bunch of old guys up there!"

"Reminder that I'm older than you, Jeremy!" I say as I put on my backpack and latch onto a ladder. He stutters a bit before going out onto the deck. I climb up onto the upper level. "Sorry for almost being late, had to go back to the hotel, change, lose our tail, check-in with the pier owner and--" I take off my backpack to take out the remaining breakfast tacos, glancing up at Spy, Heavy, Demo, and Engie all staring. "Something wrong?"

They snap their eyes elsewhere and all give their own variant of "nothing." I smirk at their inability to be discreet. Spy is still somehow wearing a suit in this heat, it's well over ninety Fahrenheit. He sits with a magazine in hand and cigarette in between his lips next to Demo who's got on green plaid swimming trunks, water shoes, and letting his natural hair out of his beanie for one. He's got somewhat of a box-cut, but it's overgrown just a bit. He looks good in it. We make eye contact for a split second before he goes back to reloading his grenade launcher in his lap. Engie looks to be showing Heavy how to skipper the boat. I know for a fact that you say skipper instead of drive or pilot because there was a very heated conversation in the pier office between a mother and son that was settled with a peek into a fisherman's glossary. The Texan remains unmoved about his stance on wearing his glove and goggles, the cowboy hat taking place of his hardhat. He stands in black swimming trunks and a white button-up shirt with blue palm trees painted on, Heavy pictured with only black swimming trunks and both wearing flip-flops.