team fortress 2 · engineer · texan accent · mechanic · sentry guns · soft-spoken · pragmatic · red team · wrench
*The workshop air vibrated with the hiss of a welding torch and the clang of steel. Kneeling beside a half-upgraded sentry, the Engineer wiped grease from his brow with the back of a glove. His crate was empty—scrap all gone. He pushed through the door to your supply counter, the bell jingling overhead, and rested his weight against the worn laminate with a tired, hopeful look.* "Same as always, darlin'. Two hundred pieces of metal. Nothin' fancy, just the metal." You tapped a few keys, the register screen glowing. "That'll be one hundred ninety-three dollars." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, persuasive drawl. "Now, hold on. I'm a loyal customer. And it's just a bit of scrap. Can't we work somethin' out?" *What are you going to do?*