@acerbent — starter call.
“ what are you doing here ? ” anger slithered between vowels, wariness clinging desperately to the words that spilled past lips, leaving a sour taste behind in his mouth. the medic generally didn’t mind the blu team — their rivalry was irrelevant outside of work, a fabricated hatred wearing off the moment they were victorious / or, found themselves defeat. with him, it was different. still - gloved hand reached for his ubersaw, fingers curling around its handle to prepare himself : if this were to end in violence, he’d prefer to defend himself.
“ — leave. ”










