The Blu Spy

Arthur didn’t question someone pulling him up and away. It was the middle of battle and he was dazed from either shock, blood loss, or something else. He hoped they were taking him to medpack, or a Medic.

“Allow me.” He insisted as his leather clad fingers gently brushed the others out of the way to finish the job he had attempted to start. “I usually wait until after ze date to undress a man, but I zink given ze circumstances, we can make an exception, oui?” His teasing was meant to give the Ranger something else to focus on, as he worried about him passing out on him. Not at all enjoying the mental image of others stumbling upon a spy they would eventually realize wasn’t their own, hoovering over what would appear to be a dead team mate.

Once exposed, Charles tore open another swab of alcohol as he assessed the bleeding cut on his side. Not bothering to warn the RED this time as he quickly cleaned the area as best as he could. Knowing that regardless of what he did, there was no cleaning up the mess until after he had been healed. 

He cried out as the alcohol swab made contact with his skin, the pain waking him up. Taking a few seconds to breathe, his mind caught onto the question.

Immediately Charles’s brows furrowed in a deeply sympathetic wince as the man cried out when he began to clean his wound. The irony was that the espion regularly fulfilled mission that could make the bravest man’s blood run cold, but tending to this Ranger, he felt bad for causing him more pain than what he was currently experiencing. Doing his best to be ginger with his dabbing until he was satisfied that he could be patched up. 

“Ah, oui. I zought as much. Were jou at least successful?” He questioned idly as he quickly applied pressure to the wound with gauze. Loathing the feel of the warm crimson that was steadily beginning to seep into the leather of his gloves. With his free hand and teeth, Charles pulled open a large bandage to lay overtop the gauze he was pressing into his side. Hoping that it would at least be enough to keep him standing so he could find better aid with his Medic.

( Mick - @asktheteufortmercs )

From above a torrent of water poured from the sky in a thick river that was unleashed with a quaking crack of thunder. Soaking the earth below, and all the mercenaries who had begun their march back to the battlements when the end of battle was called. Charles immediately finding himself caught in the middle of it, paused with a displeased glare to the heavens. Condemning whoever was responsible for ruining the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket, and for forcing him to track mud wherever he was going.

Catching sight of a few fleeing bodies darting into the now empty buildings of the battlefield, the lithe bleu followed suit. Using what agility, he could against the slick earth under his feet to quickly run inside. Nearly causing him to run head long into the sniper standing not too far within. Forcing him to catch himself on the gunmen to keep from knocking them both over, with a small apologetic smile.

“Are jou alright, ami? I heard screaming, and jou seem to be bleeding.” He explained as his green eyes flickered from the wound on his face, to the knife in his hand. Doing his best to work out what exactly was going on before he came to the door. His only conclusion being that, for whatever reason, the Sniper had done this to himself. It wasn’t fathomable that he had accidently fallen on the knife. However, he couldn’t imagine how he had earned that cut, unless there really was someone inside that he was unable to see.

Dell nervously pulled at the black tie around his neck before placing his arm around the spies waist, holding the other close and trying his damndest to keep his smile up and genuine looking. Doing his best to hide the fact he was a damn wreck inside.

“Oh, of course, cheri. I wouldn’t want jou to put jourself zrough too much for me.” Charles agreed in a sympathetic breath that could fool anyone listening into believe that he truly cared about any pain the other could be in. Giving Dell a subtle pout as he gently squeezed his hand. “Two dances will be perfect.” 

With that said the lithe bleu used the hand that held his to gently guide the Engineer onto the dance floor. Fully intending on chasing in that promise, as it would seem odd if they didn’t at least join in once. Charles didn’t often have the time to dance like he used. However, as he pulled Dell onto the floor he fell into step as if it was only yesterday; of course, allowing the shorter gentlemen to take the lead as he assumed that was the part Dell would prefer. Having both lead and followed while dancing many times before. 

( Mick - @asktheteufortmercs )

From above a torrent of water poured from the sky in a thick river that was unleashed with a quaking crack of thunder. Soaking the earth below, and all the mercenaries who had begun their march back to the battlements when the end of battle was called. Charles immediately finding himself caught in the middle of it, paused with a displeased glare to the heavens. Condemning whoever was responsible for ruining the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket, and for forcing him to track mud wherever he was going.

Catching sight of a few fleeing bodies darting into the now empty buildings of the battlefield, the lithe bleu followed suit. Using what agility, he could against the slick earth under his feet to quickly run inside. Nearly causing him to run head long into the sniper standing not too far within. Forcing him to catch himself on the gunmen to keep from knocking them both over, with a small apologetic smile.

The silence didn’t last long, though. Soon interrupted with a collision, Mick stumbled forward with impact, catching his balance just in time, and turned around to see which one of the Scouts had probably ran into him while trying to rush back inside. It was to his surprise to see the sight of a Spy instead while expecting to be bumped into by a Scout, or perhaps one of the Demos.

“Right, rain…”

When did it start raining again? He didn’t even notice. Absent mindedly, Mick turned his one eye up into the sky to see, leaving the Blu Spy to be just a faint figure at the corner of his eye now. Those orange shaded shooting glasses he always wore now off his face, hanging from the chest pocket of his vest, the Aussie’s face turned upward, feeling the rain droplets hitting the face of his skin. Some hit right over the messy stitches of his left ‘eye’. It was ugly. Under the hollow eyelids stitched together, it was clear that he was missing an eye. The rain felt nice, though. Michael loved the sound and the feeling of rain on his skin, washing his thoughts away in a sense. Pulling himself back to reality soon enough once he heared the Spy speaking again, the Sniper turned his head back down to look at the maskless man. Did he have a mask on just a moment ago, or was he without that balaclava the whole time?

“Hope it does last long. Rain’s always nice.”

Another jolt of thunder cracked loudly in the sky, noises of the rain drops hitting the ground increasing in speed. By the looks of those clouds, it was going to rain heavily for at least a while. Well, it would be good for Mick, given that the sound of rain always soothed his mind. He couldn’t stand silence. Turning his attention back to the spy once more, though, the sharpshooter took notice to the paleness at the tips of his ears, the first place to go white when someone got cold. Without really giving it any thought, in an almost autopilot mode, Mick took the rifle down from his shoulder, then took off the jacket he had, with his vest on top of it, and laid it over the Spy’s shoulders before picking the rifle back up to hang over his shoulder once more.

“Perhaps it’s nice for zose who don’t have to trudge zrough it.” Charles commented back with a faint lick of amusement traced across his tone. 

Arthur didn’t question someone pulling him up and away. It was the middle of battle and he was dazed from either shock, blood loss, or something else. He hoped they were taking him to medpack, or a Medic.

“Allow me.” He insisted as his leather clad fingers gently brushed the others out of the way to finish the job he had attempted to start. “I usually wait until after ze date to undress a man, but I zink given ze circumstances, we can make an exception, oui?” His teasing was meant to give the Ranger something else to focus on, as he worried about him passing out on him. Not at all enjoying the mental image of others stumbling upon a spy they would eventually realize wasn’t their own, hoovering over what would appear to be a dead team mate.

Once exposed, Charles tore open another swab of alcohol as he assessed the bleeding cut on his side. Not bothering to warn the RED this time as he quickly cleaned the area as best as he could. Knowing that regardless of what he did, there was no cleaning up the mess until after he had been healed.