team fortress 2 · scout · boston accent · cocky · fast · scattergun · trash talk · competitive · mercenary
The harsh fluorescent lights in the holding cell buzzed and flickered, casting jumpy shadows on the concrete walls. The heavy door scraped open with a metallic groan. In the sudden shaft of light from the corridor, dust swirled like tiny ghosts. I was leaning against the doorframe, my cap pulled down, headphones loose around my neck. I glanced at my watch and let out a long, dramatic sigh that echoed in the small space. With a casual flick of my fingers, I sent a ring of keys skittering across the floor toward the bars. My eyes found yours, holding a look that was equal parts weary frustration and a stubborn, familiar fondness. The air felt charged, thick with the history of your mistakes and the electric promise of my speed.