He froze as the Sniper's voice drifted down to him. Oh, shit. How long had he been standing there, watching him? And would he tell the Administrator about Archimedes? (He didn't think it strange at all to be more concerned about the bird than his drinking problem.)
"She's beautiful", Sniper said.
Who?.... Right, the photo. He cleared his throat before responding. "Jah, she is." He put the picture and the letter away, trying to appear casual and not like he was about to crack. He stood up slowly, bracing himself against the wall, feeling incredibly drunk and fifty years older than he was. Why was he so stiff? Just how long had he been sitting out here? He checked his watch once- twice- three times- holy shit, he really did need to quit drinking. His glasses were foggy and he couldn't see a thing. (Tomorrow. He would quit tomorrow.) Fuck it, he would just have to guess. "Ach, it's after midnight! Vat are you doing out here? You should be asleep," he admonished the Aussie, who was currently accompanied by an unknown twin. How much did he drink? He picked up the bottle and was surprised to see that it was almost gone.
Damn, this fort was affecting him. He didn't drink nearly this much before he came. Well, sure, he still drank like a fish, but at least he was smarter about it. Now, he was getting drunk left and right.
He shuddered. "Verdammt, es ist sehr kalt!" he swore, taking his glasses off. But it wasn't the drink, he realized suddenly, that made his glasses fog. He had been crying. He dashed an angry hand at his eyes, praying that Sniper didn't notice.
Thankfully, Medic thought ruefully, he'd forget this whole thing tomorrow. That was one positive thing about being drunk.
"Nah. I needed a smoke," Sniper admits guiltily, dropping the half-finished cigarette to the ground, extinguishing it with a quiet stamp of a boot. "Couldn't sleep. Jus' one of those nights, I guess..." He trails off, noticing the doctor unsteadily leaning against the wall, his eyes red, though from drink or exhaustion...emotion, Sniper can't tell.
It is an uncomfortable, lingering silence. Like a ticking bomb. Medic stares back at him, eyes unfocused. Sniper's smile falters. It wasn't really his place to say anything. He was the new man on the team; for a moment he even considered taking the doc's advice and just going back to bed, but...
"Aw hell, I wasn't gonna sleep tonight anyway." He grips the Medic's shoulders gently, steering him toward the base. "C'mon, let's get inside. A bite to eat an' some good coffee'll fix us both up right."
Besides, it looks like you could use a friend.
Sniper pulls the door open, concerned enough about his teammate not to mind the dove following at his heels. It flutters in with an indignant coo just as the door swings shut behind them. He sighs, flicking on the kitchen lights and begins rummaging through the cabinets for coffee.
((OOC: Also known as...the post that took forever and a day to write! A thousand apologies. But I'm really glad you spoke up about continuing this...once I sat down to write it, it came pretty easily. Scratch that there's a million things wrong with it and it's terrible. I had to edit it. Verb tense agreement and junk. Couldn't let it go. -paranoid writer-))
As Sniper loops an arm around his shoulders, he leans gratefully on the support as the world begins to twirl and lurch in all sorts of odd directions. He is fairly certain at one point they walked on the wall. The Australian leads him into the base and sits him down at a table before rummaging through cabinets.
Archimedes lands on the table next to his elbow and coos. "Ach, Archimedes, you silly szing," he says out loud, "vhat vould ze Administrator do if she found you here, eh? You know vhat she vould do. You know. You really should go back outside, vhere you can fly avay from trouble." He smiles bitterly. "Just fly avay. You lucky szing, you."
He takes off his glasses and dashes a hand at his eyes again. Clearing his throat, he asks, "Any luck?" he asks, trying to sound cheerful.
((OOC-- No worries!!! I'm glad we can get back to it. And haha, I feel you there. Paranoia will destroy 'ya. But seriously, it's good for such short notice.))
"Yeah, as a matter of fact!" Sniper replies with an enthusiastic smile, giving the red tin of coffee a triumphant shake. Sounded like there was something in there at least. Pulling a questionably-sanitary spoon from a drawer, he scoops a generous amount into the coffeemaker's filter basket, switching it on.
He had a more difficult time finding clean dishes. He hadn't really noticed before how dingy and genuinely empty the kitchen was. After rifling through several cabinets, filled with more cobwebs than cooking accoutrements, he manages to find something suitable, grabbing two chipped mugs. Good enough, he thinks, and springs to the fridge, pulling the door open with a flourish.
The shelves were virtually empty, save for some assorted condiments. Sniper shifts the small, glass jars aside, regretting this choice almost instantly as he uncovered a furry, mold-covered something on a plate. He recoils, slamming the door with a groan of disgust.
"Best stay outta the icebox, Doc," he suggests, wiping a hand on his shirt. "Stuff in there that's liable to grow legs."
Sniper leans on the counter. The silence was making him impatient; he didn't really know what to say. He had hardly spoken two words to any of his teammates since he arrived, though he supposes that was mostly his fault. Might as well start now: the doctor wasn't likely to remember it anyway...He pauses, taking a deep breath.
"Before I was hired here, I was livin' out of my van over in Spain...it wasn't some bum van, either. She was beautiful." Sniper says, glancing at the drunken Medic. "D'you know, I actually bought 'er in Germany? Volkswagon. Absolutly flawless car." He smiles reminscently. "Plus that bastard partner of mine had made off with th'plane so I had to find some means o'transport..." he mumbles. "But, man, those times were perfect. Just me an' the road. I 'ad to leave her behind when I came here, though."
The coffee maker begins to gurgle pleasantly.
"Alright, I got a good story for ya..." Sniper chuckles.
"This one job I remember: so I had just gotten to Spain. By that time, I was outta gas, outta food, with no money. I couldn't really pick up many real mercenary-type jobs right away--so I had to take up the occassional odd jobs for cash. Now keep in mind, I hardly knew two words o'Spanish.
"So I pick myself up a newspaper, find something labeled "trabajo," an pick a job at random. So I drive up--just on fumes at this point--to this lovely stone house.This sweet, old grandma answers the door an' starts talkin' a mile a minute and I can't understand a word she's sayin', but she drags me inside anyway. Takes me to the kitchen, and through gestures and a lot of guessin' on my part, I figure out that somethin's wrong with her sink. With the plumbing."
Sniper pauses, scratching his nose. The coffee is half-brewed, the invigorating aroma beginning to waft through the kitchen.
"Now, Oi'm a sniper by trade, not a plumber," he continues, "but I really, really needed that cash, so I spent easily the next...hour or so fiddlin' around under the sink with the pipes, tryin' to loosen this stubborn jointed piece. But my hand slipped, hit the switch for that blade thingy--the garbage disposal, an' the kitchen turned to chaos. I had that thing roarin' in my ear, the Spanish gramma just starts hittin' me with her broom, shoutin' away in Spanish. So I panic a bit, manage to switch the thing off again, thankfully...
"Turns out she thought I 'ad lost her ring. That's wot the ad said: "pedi anillo de boda." She'd lost her wedding ring down the drain. Feelin' bad, I made to leave, but konked my head right on the pipe. Finally knocked the sucker loose, but left me with a heck of a bruise an' covered with gunk to boot. I took one final look up there an' there was this half-shredded fish head stuck in the blade. I was already covered in slime, so what the heck? I pull it out...An' you know wot?
"Out fell the ring-safe an' sound. It had been stuck in the fish's mouth. I was her hero.
"I ended up goin' back there for the occassional spot o'work. She taught me a bit of Spanish, enough to get by, and a lot 'bout cooking. Didn't have much family of 'er own, see. Called me her gringo. Wanted me to call her abuelita. Wouldn't take no for an answer, either. For the better part of a year I went to visit her until, well..."
The coffee maker beeps and Sniper rushes to pour the steaming drink, welcoming the distraction, feeling a bit embarassed that he had been talking the entire time.
He clears his throat. "Here," he says, handing Medic a mug with a dry smile. "Hope you like it black. Don't really wanna risk usin' anything from the fridge."
((OOC: I apologize in advance for this novel/double post. I tried, lol. Oh sweet influence of Mt Dew...))
The doctor laughs at the Sniper's story and gratefully accepts the proffered coffee, gingerly taking a drink of the hot liquid. He swallowed it, admiring the way it burned, and wondering why he didn't just get drunk off of coffee since it felt the same as alcohol without the horrible after effects.
He nodded his head, "Jah, Volkswagen. A very good car; ze vans are amazing. You know," he said, leaning forward, "my friend had a van, it may have been like your own, only he..." he fumbled for a word, "hollowed out a small compartment in ze bottom of it. He used to sneak people across ze Berlin Vall like szat, aha, myself included." He whistled lowly before taking another drink of the coffee. "Szose vere very, very adventurous days. But, a lot of fun, honestly." He smiled, looking where he thought the Sniper was sitting (although without his glasses, he couldn't be too sure). "Spain, I remember, vas a beautiful country. Probably ze most beautiful to drive szrough. But, I am mit you, ze language is very hard to follow. And ze are alvays waving zeir hands about, like..." He demonstrated, flailing his hands up over his head, and fell out of his chair laughing.
Archimedes merely hopped to the end of the table, looked down at his friend, and gave a rather short coo, almost as if it were an exasperated sigh.
"She's beautiful", Sniper said.
Who?.... Right, the photo. He cleared his throat before responding. "Jah, she is." He put the picture and the letter away, trying to appear casual and not like he was about to crack. He stood up slowly, bracing himself against the wall, feeling incredibly drunk and fifty years older than he was. Why was he so stiff? Just how long had he been sitting out here? He checked his watch once- twice- three times- holy shit, he really did need to quit drinking. His glasses were foggy and he couldn't see a thing. (Tomorrow. He would quit tomorrow.) Fuck it, he would just have to guess. "Ach, it's after midnight! Vat are you doing out here? You should be asleep," he admonished the Aussie, who was currently accompanied by an unknown twin. How much did he drink? He picked up the bottle and was surprised to see that it was almost gone.
Damn, this fort was affecting him. He didn't drink nearly this much before he came. Well, sure, he still drank like a fish, but at least he was smarter about it. Now, he was getting drunk left and right.
He shuddered. "Verdammt, es ist sehr kalt!" he swore, taking his glasses off. But it wasn't the drink, he realized suddenly, that made his glasses fog. He had been crying. He dashed an angry hand at his eyes, praying that Sniper didn't notice.
Thankfully, Medic thought ruefully, he'd forget this whole thing tomorrow. That was one positive thing about being drunk.
(OOC- LJ, I am disappoint. I spend all that time making sure you would show the picture to everyone, and you show it to no one. Why won't you listen? You ruin everything, LJ! Bah! Anyway, here's the image link:
https://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=1eef32d8cf&view=att&th=1343dc5833dbd428&attid=0.1&disp=inline&realattid=f_gw6np5730&zw)
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It is an uncomfortable, lingering silence. Like a ticking bomb. Medic stares back at him, eyes unfocused. Sniper's smile falters. It wasn't really his place to say anything. He was the new man on the team; for a moment he even considered taking the doc's advice and just going back to bed, but...
"Aw hell, I wasn't gonna sleep tonight anyway." He grips the Medic's shoulders gently, steering him toward the base. "C'mon, let's get inside. A bite to eat an' some good coffee'll fix us both up right."
Besides, it looks like you could use a friend.
Sniper pulls the door open, concerned enough about his teammate not to mind the dove following at his heels. It flutters in with an indignant coo just as the door swings shut behind them. He sighs, flicking on the kitchen lights and begins rummaging through the cabinets for coffee.
((OOC: Also known as...the post that took forever and a day to write! A thousand apologies. But I'm really glad you spoke up about continuing this...once I sat down to write it, it came pretty easily. Scratch that there's a million things wrong with it and it's terrible. I had to edit it. Verb tense agreement and junk. Couldn't let it go. -paranoid writer-))
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Archimedes lands on the table next to his elbow and coos. "Ach, Archimedes, you silly szing," he says out loud, "vhat vould ze Administrator do if she found you here, eh? You know vhat she vould do. You know. You really should go back outside, vhere you can fly avay from trouble." He smiles bitterly. "Just fly avay. You lucky szing, you."
He takes off his glasses and dashes a hand at his eyes again. Clearing his throat, he asks, "Any luck?" he asks, trying to sound cheerful.
((OOC-- No worries!!! I'm glad we can get back to it. And haha, I feel you there. Paranoia will destroy 'ya. But seriously, it's good for such short notice.))
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He had a more difficult time finding clean dishes. He hadn't really noticed before how dingy and genuinely empty the kitchen was. After rifling through several cabinets, filled with more cobwebs than cooking accoutrements, he manages to find something suitable, grabbing two chipped mugs. Good enough, he thinks, and springs to the fridge, pulling the door open with a flourish.
The shelves were virtually empty, save for some assorted condiments. Sniper shifts the small, glass jars aside, regretting this choice almost instantly as he uncovered a furry, mold-covered something on a plate. He recoils, slamming the door with a groan of disgust.
"Best stay outta the icebox, Doc," he suggests, wiping a hand on his shirt. "Stuff in there that's liable to grow legs."
Sniper leans on the counter. The silence was making him impatient; he didn't really know what to say. He had hardly spoken two words to any of his teammates since he arrived, though he supposes that was mostly his fault. Might as well start now: the doctor wasn't likely to remember it anyway...He pauses, taking a deep breath.
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The coffee maker begins to gurgle pleasantly.
"Alright, I got a good story for ya..." Sniper chuckles.
"This one job I remember: so I had just gotten to Spain. By that time, I was outta gas, outta food, with no money. I couldn't really pick up many real mercenary-type jobs right away--so I had to take up the occassional odd jobs for cash. Now keep in mind, I hardly knew two words o'Spanish.
"So I pick myself up a newspaper, find something labeled "trabajo," an pick a job at random. So I drive up--just on fumes at this point--to this lovely stone house.This sweet, old grandma answers the door an' starts talkin' a mile a minute and I can't understand a word she's sayin', but she drags me inside anyway. Takes me to the kitchen, and through gestures and a lot of guessin' on my part, I figure out that somethin's wrong with her sink. With the plumbing."
Sniper pauses, scratching his nose. The coffee is half-brewed, the invigorating aroma beginning to waft through the kitchen.
"Now, Oi'm a sniper by trade, not a plumber," he continues, "but I really, really needed that cash, so I spent easily the next...hour or so fiddlin' around under the sink with the pipes, tryin' to loosen this stubborn jointed piece. But my hand slipped, hit the switch for that blade thingy--the garbage disposal, an' the kitchen turned to chaos. I had that thing roarin' in my ear, the Spanish gramma just starts hittin' me with her broom, shoutin' away in Spanish. So I panic a bit, manage to switch the thing off again, thankfully...
"Turns out she thought I 'ad lost her ring. That's wot the ad said: "pedi anillo de boda." She'd lost her wedding ring down the drain. Feelin' bad, I made to leave, but konked my head right on the pipe. Finally knocked the sucker loose, but left me with a heck of a bruise an' covered with gunk to boot. I took one final look up there an' there was this half-shredded fish head stuck in the blade. I was already covered in slime, so what the heck? I pull it out...An' you know wot?
"Out fell the ring-safe an' sound. It had been stuck in the fish's mouth. I was her hero.
"I ended up goin' back there for the occassional spot o'work. She taught me a bit of Spanish, enough to get by, and a lot 'bout cooking. Didn't have much family of 'er own, see. Called me her gringo. Wanted me to call her abuelita. Wouldn't take no for an answer, either. For the better part of a year I went to visit her until, well..."
The coffee maker beeps and Sniper rushes to pour the steaming drink, welcoming the distraction, feeling a bit embarassed that he had been talking the entire time.
He clears his throat. "Here," he says, handing Medic a mug with a dry smile. "Hope you like it black. Don't really wanna risk usin' anything from the fridge."
((OOC: I apologize in advance for this novel/double post. I tried, lol. Oh sweet influence of Mt Dew...))
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He nodded his head, "Jah, Volkswagen. A very good car; ze vans are amazing. You know," he said, leaning forward, "my friend had a van, it may have been like your own, only he..." he fumbled for a word, "hollowed out a small compartment in ze bottom of it. He used to sneak people across ze Berlin Vall like szat, aha, myself included." He whistled lowly before taking another drink of the coffee. "Szose vere very, very adventurous days. But, a lot of fun, honestly." He smiled, looking where he thought the Sniper was sitting (although without his glasses, he couldn't be too sure). "Spain, I remember, vas a beautiful country. Probably ze most beautiful to drive szrough. But, I am mit you, ze language is very hard to follow. And ze are alvays waving zeir hands about, like..." He demonstrated, flailing his hands up over his head, and fell out of his chair laughing.
Archimedes merely hopped to the end of the table, looked down at his friend, and gave a rather short coo, almost as if it were an exasperated sigh.
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