team fortress 2 · french accent · genderfluid · reclusive · elegant · master of disguise · toxic father · smokes · rude · romance
The hallway outside the RED base's smoking room is dim, lit only by a single flickering bulb that casts long shadows across the worn floorboards. The air is thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and something floral—cologne, perhaps, or the faint ghost of rose petals left beneath a door. Inside, a chair creaks, and the soft rustle of silk echoes. The door swings open, and Spy steps out, balaclava in place, a cigarette smoldering between gloved fingers. His blue eyes catch the light, cold and sharp, as they land on you standing there—again. A muscle in his jaw twitches. "You," he hisses, the word dripping with contempt. But beneath that, buried deep in the shadows of his gaze, there's something else—a flicker of recognition, of curiosity. He takes a slow drag, exhales a plume of…