#pisscff

“I do not understand how she does this.” The Russian rumbled. 

Out on the porch, beneath the setting sun, Heavy turned over a gift from his sister, Bronislava. A carved bear tooth. With intricate patterns notched into the surface. 

With a proud smile plastered to his face, the giant peered at it through his reading glasses. He turned it over and over in his large fingers. Letters that he’d already carefully read strewn over his lap. 

       Send me ✍️ and I’ll sketch a character / characters / whatever || Always accepting tbh

“Oy, Medic!” It’d been the third time Sniper called for the blasted man with no answer, and he was getting rapidly annoyed. Sniper had nearly sliced his hand clean off by trying to pry his shiv out of the wall during an earlier scuffle, and he was now tightly holding the injury with his good hand. He was also stumbling around, trying to remain upright because the cut had been deeper than he’d intended and Sniper was growing slightly dizzy as a result.

Finding anyone on his team was proving to be more of a hassle than he wanted, as it seemed everyone had all but disappeared. Searching for a health kit inside wasn’t doing him any good either, so he had to go outside in order to find something discarded on the field to tide himself over.

Of course, he didn’t find anything lying around outside either, but what he did find had him backing up a step.

@pisscff for the thing I’m too lazy to link to! [Accepting]

It was, God-honestly, painful. His cheeks burned, his head ached; his shoulder felt numb but immense pain would spread through his body as soon he tried to movie it. His feet were hurt as well, aching in an asymmetrical rhythm to the pain he felt in his head, which made everything even worse. And yet, there he sat, carefully bandaging his own arm. He didn’t know where that injury came from. Was it from when Hale dragged him through the Jungle or when Hale used him as a weapon against a deadly and extinct animal ? He didn’t know, nor did he want to know. All that was important in that moment for him was that he had to hurry up before their battle began.  Hearing footsteps approaching him, he hesitantly looked up. How he hadn’t broken his neck with Hale holding him and dragging him through the jungle by it was far beyond of what he tried to understand at that very moment.            ❝  So... how’s your back holdin’ up ? ❞

( ✚ ) -

  Open lips, teeth were slightly exposed in an annoyed scowl, much like a wolf's agonistic pucker who was bravely standing its ground with its tail up and ears forward, eyes wide in alert.

  Medic didn't often like to be touched, and this was definitely crossing the line; but he understood that the other wasn't in his right mind at the moment, so he did try to be more patient with him for now. ❝Do what to him?❞ He attempted pulling his leg away, but to no avail. The man was like a stubborn koala clinging to a tree branch for dear life, and it didn't look like he was letting him go free any time soon. ❝Herr -- I have things to do. I have already stayed long enough to toast with you all.❞

     ❝ ALL THIS EFFORT, AND NO THANKS? ❞  Mundy’s inquiry is met only with a mournful shake of the head. A long and shameless sigh sounds, cut short only by Ludwig’s enthusiasm in tucking another piece of honey-slathered toast into his mouth.  ❝ Your favourite medic has been gone this long. Is a hug or perhaps even an  ❛ I missed you ❜  too much to ask for, Herr Sniper? ❞

     He smiles, wide and garish and unafraid as ever, though the tone is light-hearted enough that Mundy would know already that the doctor doesn’t mind the casualness at all. But with the fine layer of black residue Ludwig’s tracked across the living room and kitchen, even if he did have the courtesy to wash his hands before going through Mundy’s pantry, he’s amazed that Mundy didn’t decide to raise his rifle and shoot Ludwig where he sat after all.

     ❝ I am full of surprises, aren’t I? ❞  Under the pretence of coating another bread roll in a generous amount of butter, he watches the other man out of the corner of a far too sharp eye. Mundy’s own vision hasn’t held out as well, unfortunately, if the deliberate narrowing of green eyes is anything to judge by. Ludwig had noticed the beginnings of it long ago, but time has taken its eventual toll in the years he's been gone.  ❝ What you heard wasn’t wrong. I did enjoy the freedom of being publicly declared dead. While it lasted, that is... though I didn’t expect the news would reach you. ❞  

     He’s already cutting into his third serving of sausages and eggs as Mundy approaches. A much softer smile curls his lips as he watches Sniper – well, it’s just Mundy now, with how long they’ve been retired – seat himself across the table and reach right for the coffee pot, which Ludwig’s set in plain sight aside from the impressive amount of food he’s cooked up. 

     Indeed, it’s the same Mundy he knows. Things haven’t changed all that much in the years he’s made himself scarce.

     Mundy’s question is clear. Still... Ludwig, with a clever and perfectly visible quirk of the lip that indicates he knows exactly what he is doing, can’t help dancing around the matter altogether:  ❝ What happened…? Well, I’m a busy man, Mundy. I’ve had places to go, things to do. The world won’t wait for you, after all – anyway, I gave lying around in the grave a chance, but I couldn’t stand it. There was no time to waste being dead, as hard as I tried. ❞

     He peers at Mundy over the edge of his spectacles. He has to, or else the thick lenses would blur his vision. Though his sight has long been corrected and he no longer needs the glasses, he still likes the appearance they give him: an unintimidating appearance for the unlucky members of the public that might catch sight of him – and a welcoming and familiar sight for an old friend.