[Engineer had leaned forward on the counter he sat on, arms leaned on his knees. Quiet. Probably sign enough for Medic that he was listening and wanted to listen. It's hard to read Medic when it came to more serious stuff. Dell figured that the least he could do was offer an ear and let the other man decide. He won't push it.
What he might push, though, is the two cigars he slips out of his inside pocket. Even if Medic doesn't smoke, hey. It's solidarity.]
How old were ya?
B.
[YEP HE KNEW THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN AND YET THAT STILL WAS A POOR CHOICE OF WORDS]
For shit's sake, Ludwig!
[Engineer doesn't normally call Medic by his name. The merc steps forward and opens his mouth to make some kind of protest. His hands come up to gesture along with whatever the hell he was going to argue
... He stops short when he looks at the box. Slowly, his mouth closes. He looks back and forth between the box, blueprints he barely understands, the grenade, box, blueprints, grenade, and...
He groans. His gloved hand goes up to his face and he leans against the opposite table. Note that for all his ambivalence, Engie makes no move to stop him. Kind of a quiet sign that he still implicitly trusts the man, even when he's about to goddamn kill himself.]
no subject
[Engineer had leaned forward on the counter he sat on, arms leaned on his knees. Quiet. Probably sign enough for Medic that he was listening and wanted to listen. It's hard to read Medic when it came to more serious stuff. Dell figured that the least he could do was offer an ear and let the other man decide. He won't push it.
What he might push, though, is the two cigars he slips out of his inside pocket. Even if Medic doesn't smoke, hey. It's solidarity.]
How old were ya?
B.
[YEP HE KNEW THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN AND YET THAT STILL WAS A POOR CHOICE OF WORDS]
For shit's sake, Ludwig!
[Engineer doesn't normally call Medic by his name. The merc steps forward and opens his mouth to make some kind of protest. His hands come up to gesture along with whatever the hell he was going to argue
... He stops short when he looks at the box. Slowly, his mouth closes. He looks back and forth between the box, blueprints he barely understands, the grenade, box, blueprints, grenade, and...
He groans. His gloved hand goes up to his face and he leans against the opposite table. Note that for all his ambivalence, Engie makes no move to stop him. Kind of a quiet sign that he still implicitly trusts the man, even when he's about to goddamn kill himself.]
Just use the fucking gun.
[He doesn't normally drop the f-bomb either.]