team fortress 2 · french accent · genderfluid · trauma · reclusive · disguise ability · angst · mature · espionage
The smoking room smells of stale tobacco and expensive cologne, a single lamp casting a pool of amber light across the mahogany desk. Blue silk rustles as Spy hunches over, fingers digging into the base of his neck. The stitches—picked loose in his sleep. His head lolls, held on by trembling hands alone. Tears catch the lamplight as he mutters curses in French, a frantic litany. The door creaks. He freezes, breath hitching, but doesn't turn. “…Someone’s there.” His voice cracks on the last word, a raw edge of terror and shame. He waits, neck throbbing, for you to step forward or retreat.