rackofbadcds | i feel a weakness coming on

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engineer

i feel a weakness coming on

Dell wasn't opposed to the idea of a date. He liked meeting people, getting to know them, all that.

What he WAS opposed to was Soldier and Demoman setting him up.

It was just as he started his vacation. Engie was mulling over driving up to Santa Fe for the weekend (partly to get off base, partly for the art museums), when the two loudly announced they had found him a date tonight, 8 PM, at some steak-and-seafood restaurant ("EVERYTHING ABOUT IT IS AN AESTHETIC REPRESENTATION OF YOU AS A HUMAN BEING," Jane said, "OLD, WESTERN, SHRIMP"). He didn't even know they were scheming this, much less that they thought he needed help.

Really, he shouldn't be THAT surprised. The merc kept most of his romantic endeavors to himself. There was occasional casual talk and ball-busting between the nine of them over women (and men), dates, first times, escapades, et cetera. When it came to the real thing, though? Dell decided it was nobody's business.

Hell, he hadn't even told them about Angela.

The three argued back and forth 'til at least 6:30. But between Soldier's hounding and Engineer realizing it probably wasn't fair to let whatever poor woman they set him up with suffer alone in this, he begrudingly said yes.

So there he was. Tavish made the reservations, Jane threatened the waitstaff. All Engineer had to do was show up and look decent. To his credit, he ditched his work clothes for a plain dress shirt, sleeves pushed up and the collar unbuttoned; denim jeans; and a plain white cowboy hat (naturally). The restaurant looked like it was fairly casual on a normal day, but part of Soldier's screaming demands included candlelight and a table so far back from the rest of the normal diners that Engineer knew he stuck out like a sore thumb.

Again. He likes dating. And he's willing to deal with this for whoever he was waiting for.

But Santa Fe's getting more tempting by the second.

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[Now Medic is no saboteur, as evident by his title being Medic not Spy, but he can be one hell of a sneaky devil when he wants to be.]

[Not that it's really all that hard to sneak up on a man in the middle of a busy restaurant, his position at the most secluded part of the dining area be damned.]

[Medic waits until a waitress comes by to drop off a pair of menus before moving in, taking the short distraction as his golden opportunity to get the drop on his poor unsuspecting teammate.]

[He gives no warning of his approach. He simply leans over behind Engie, claps a hand on his shoulder, and speaks to him in a low, conspiratorial tone.]

You clean up quite nicely, mein freund.

Angela, on the other hand, makes no promises in the way of sly (or spy) behavior. There is an M.D. at the end of her name, perhaps, but the half-empty glass in her hand from the bar says she's been here watching for a hot second, from the fringes of the nearby group of other guests.

There was something deeply amusing to her to have been approached for a blind date with a man she was already close to, his colleagues not seeming to know who she was or much of anything beyond "we saw you leave some lab so you must like The Science too", which made it all the more appealing to accept such a coincidental opportunity. Then there was talk of someone else coming along, and she wanted to wait and see just who might show up. Another woman? Or will it be a man? She'll have to see where his team's good intentions took them in the way of company for Dell. Especially if they'd stumbled on her; perhaps they were more adept than one would first assume, when they actually held so much in common.

When the striking German man drops right by in the wake of the waitress (who looked puzzled by the extra chair at an otherwise romantic setting, and hesitantly left a third menu at the seat), Angela isn't far behind, setting to motion with the direct route to the only person this side of the restaurant. Certainly not far enough behind that the quip would go unheard.

Her hand finds Dell's other shoulder in passing, taking her seat and crossing one leg over the other beneath the table as she settles, dressed equally as casually in a subtly-printed dress atop knit stockings. The cross of her legs reveals a hint of lace to the engineer, making them thigh-highs instead of leggings.

"Mein Freund, is it. Is there a relationship I should have known about before accepting?"

The playful smile quirking her lips already says she doesn't mind, whatever this happens to be. She'll offer the other man her hand in greeting, bearing many of the same marks of their work that his own may have. Callouses along their index and middle fingertips from wielding scalpels, steadiness and precision even in something as mundane as wielding a steak knife.

"Angela Ziegler. I don't believe we've had the pleasure."

The first thing Engie notices is the third menu. He opens his mouth to call the waitress back when that first hand claps his shoulder. He looks up.

... and stares.

"Doc? What the blazes are you--"

Then the second hand. He looks to his other side. He stares longer.

"Angela? What..."

Then they're going back and forth and there's something about mein freund and oh does that mean something completely different than what he thought it meant and boy howdy that's some lace on those legs and Engie's looking at Medic then Angela then Medic then Angela and--

Oh boy.

After the first bug-eyed, bewildered moment passes, the first thought that hits Engie is that the others found out. About Angela. But then... no. Knowing Soldier and Demoman, they probably didn't even put two and two together. With them, it was just as likely to be a happy coincidence.

But that didn't explain why Medic was here... unless he just happened to be here. He would. He would just "happen" to show up.

... You know what. No. None of this adds up. Unless--

After darting back and forth between the two of them, his stare finally stops in the middle distance between them. His brow furrows.

"Huh."

Edited 2018-05-03 01:56 (UTC)

It's hard not to notice Angela when she enters the scene. Not just because she makes for one hell of a pretty picture (that goes without saying) but because the first words out of her mouth are in German.

Perfect, unaccented German.

For a moment Medic forgets all about delighting in Engineer's confusion and instead shifts his attention to the first person in years who's actually been able to call him out on his gratuitous misuse of pet names.

"...Sie Sprechen Deutsch."

If he sounds pleasantly surprised, it's because he is. Y'know, just in case that wasn't evident by the way his expression shifts from dumbfounded to delighted in six seconds flat.

He laughs, the hand still on Engie's shoulder moving to give the poor man a little congratulatory shake as though to say wow, you lucked out buddy.

"The pleasure is mine, Fräulein."

Medic finally lets go of Engie's shoulder, if only so he can slide into the last empty seat at the table and make himself comfortable, just in case anyone was under the mistaken impression that he's not here for the long haul.

"So." He looks from Engie to Angela, lacing his fingers together neatly as he props his elbows up on the table and leans in, flashing a Cheshire grin.

"It seems you two have already been acquainted."

Don't let the polite tone fool you, he's digging for ammo to mercilessly tease Engie with later.

The pincer attack was all too effective and her delight in befuddling Dell glitters in her eyes as she finds her seat, finding his attention fraying even further as he catches the tease of lace at the top of her stockings. He has to be good, this evening. They have company.

Company whose accent was far heavier than her own, seemingly surprised to hear his own tongue repeated back to him flawlessly. There weren't many German speakers around, after all. She understands. Her smile softens to the way he lights up, widening further as he gives Dell a shake and her hands fold in her lap.

"Ja. Und woher kommst du?"

The closer he listens, however, he may pick up on a vague accent— something lighter and a bit more playful than he'd be used to hearing; she's Swiss-German, after all, and while she speaks standard German without a hitch, it isn't without its color. And to refer to her as a young woman, even— the quiet tip of her head is enough to convey her uncertainty on it being flattery or honest intent.

"And you as well. For myself, I was lucky enough to find a like mind at one of many galas for new inventions— our friend here has quite a knack for bettering the world around him/ Are you familiar with his work?"

As far as ammo goes, it's a pitiful handful of spent shells; nothing he doesn't already know. But it lays a plain enough track to follow. She won't say anything as rude as 'I've not heard of you'.

Yeah, okay. Alright. You guys bond for a second. Dell's not going to interrupt. He's still trying to put two-and-two together, as evident by how his fingers drum and the way his brow pinches when he stares at nothing real hard, even when Medic shakes his shoulder.

And when the other man sits down, Engie looks his way. That look of concentrated, brow-pinched, eye-narrowing huh stays on his expression, and he doesn't even realize he's joined the conversation til he gets few words in:

"... Uh, yeah. Me and Medic here, we're... we work together. At our... work. Job."

Job work. Yes. Angela already (vaguely) covered him and her. For some reason, his brain thinks he needs to provide for Medic - who he still calls "Medic". Like that's not going to get confusing. Sorry, Angela. Dell knows his name, but their whole crew is so used to calling each other by job title that it's pretty much stuck.

... Wait, no. God dammit. He blinks and shakes his head, like he's just finally snapped out of his own bewilderment.

"Hold up. You're tellin' me Soldier and Demo got you both here."

He looks to Angela, then Medic - and keeps his gaze there. Because for all he knows, Medic just inserted himself into this on his own. Maybe not, but it's definitely a possibility.

Basically: He thinks he's onto you, motherfucker.

Edited 2018-05-05 02:15 (UTC)

Medic grins, not just because Angela appears to be almost as good at giving people shit as he is, but because he absolutely loves being given the opportunity to poke fun at his own Swabian ass.

"Stuttgart. Wir können alles... Außer Hochdeutsch."

It's a joke that will be completely lost on poor Engineer, who's grasp on the German language isn't nearly as firm as he likely wishes it was in this situation. Medic makes a mental note to teach him later on, if only because he's goddamn hilarious and he doesn't want all his untranslatable jokes to go unappreciated.

Not that this particular joke is entirely untranslatable - he'd just have to repeat it in broken English with a dumb accent to get the sentiment across, but speaking with an accent when you can't control the one you already have is a chore and Medic really isn't that dedicated to the skit.

Poor Engie will just have to be left out of the loop this time. Not that he seems too bothered by this - judging by that stare, he's more interested in figuring out if he had something to do with this little arrangement.

Medic puts up his hands, innocent as can be, and tries very hard not to let his amusement show through and ruin his credibility. He's very much aware of how his face works, how even a friendly, teasing smile can look downright malicious if he's not mindful of what his brows are doing. His teeth, too. Sniper even told him he smiled like a shark once, which really isn't an unfair comparison, but still. Rude.

"Soldier insisted. Something about the land of plenty and the freedom to choose?"

He shrugs in that 'eh, what can you do?' sort of way that has just become the team's collective response to Soldier's everything.

"Demo, on the other hand...I wouldn't be surprised if this is his way of apologizing for sleeping with my wife."

He lets out a nice little chuckle at that casual mention of an extra-marital affair, as you do, before waving his hand to dismiss the the whole train of thought.

"As for myself, I had nothing better to do, so I figured why not?"

It gets an easy laugh from her, warmed through with a fondness that speaks to familiarity— he reminds her of Reinhardt, after all, with that accent. She has no issues deciphering it (yet) and waves the joke off with her hand, as if to dispel their switch in language when she goes back to English.

"Stuttgart! I have a dear friend from there. I'm from Zürich, myself. Now, must you all refer to each other by your job titles?"

Which is to say, she wants a name after she's given her own, but she won't state as much so blatantly. She's in good enough spirits as she flips open the menu and glances over it between the pleasantries, going for the glass of ice water to sip at as Dell gives his... explanation, however vague it may have been. She suppresses her laugh a little better this time, hidden behind the curl of slender fingers as he catches back up to the topic and the other man gets an answer in first, with Angela nodding.

"I believe they'd overheard me discussing the recent tech show with a friend at the bar— they were quite astute in aligning our interests, wouldn't you say? By the time I realized who it was they spoke of, I couldn't turn down the chance at a surprise."

Somehow it's both more and less innocent than Medic's explanation, and she's plenty aware of how Dell settles his focus on the other man with a fair helping of suspicion. Just in time for the mention of an affair, and then:

"Oh, you're married? Then we're all at quite a disadvantage for this date, aren't we?"

All taken, is what she's getting at. Though she won't elaborate on herself or Dell.

"... They did, huh."

Engineer exhales at both answers from Medic and Angela. He figuratively deflates a little too, and he looks at Medic with a little less suspicion. He leans back in his seat, looking back and forth between them.

"Of course they did."

Of course. He knew both of them, and of course they'd make this a game. Especially Soldier. Even Demo, in his own weird way. Apparently, they had to set him up on a date and make it a challenge.

... Which, if he were honest between those looks he gives the both of them, was actually pretty tough.

But Engie quickly shakes that thought of his mind between the explanations, the German conversation, and the inconvenient little details. He'll let Medic decide whether he wants to give his real name, but... you know what? He chuckles. He rubs at his beard (look facial hair just happens randomly sometimes) and shakes his head.

This was ridiculous.

"Sorry, Ang. We're, uh, used to the job titles on-base. It was a rule for a while, before we stopped caring. My real name's on company patents and, well. We got a couple local legends in our crew anyway."

Note the "Ang". Engie's not dumb enough to think Medic won't put two and two together. She's already giving away little pieces, little hints. He watches her for a moment. Then, taking that as permission enough, he lets out a half-amused, relenting sigh and takes her hand when it comes away from the glass. He gives it a brief squeeze.

Guess what, Ludwig!! You can't give him shit about this when he's already admitting it!!!!!! YOUR MOVE MOTHERFUCKER

"It's a mutual thing for 'em. Him and his wife."

Medic quickly looks from Engie to Angie, then to their joined hands. With his suspicions confirmed, a slow smile spreads across his face and he regards them both with a dark look typically reserved for people he's about to do terrible things to.

"Oh."

He laughs a little, a throaty, knowing chuckle.

"I see."

He says, as though he didn't already know from the moment Engie laid eyes on Angela.

"If only I had thought to bring her with. She would have loved to meet another pair of swingers."

Which he's assuming these two totally are, since they're entertaining this whole three-person date in the first place.

"Ah, well. There's always next time."

He wonders if maybe it's a little presumptuous to assume there will even be a next time, but then he decides that's a thought for Future Him to have. Present Him has other things to concern himself with, like introducing himself properly to the lovely stranger sitting across from him.

"Now, seeing as our American friend has given you his actual name, I suppose I should as well."

He gestures towards himself, minding the natural sharpness of his smile. It's difficult, having to censor and soften his every expression, but you never get a second chance at a first impression and he would very much like for his naturally sinister-looking countenance to not cockblock him right now.

"You may call me Ludwig. Ludva, if you prefer. I'll even accept Luděk if you're so inclined."

Not Viky, though. Only one person is allowed to call him that and they're off somewhere far from here being aggressive and Russian and Aggressively Russian.

Angela's hand turns near-immediately beneath Dell's to splay her fingers, allowing his between them even if only for a brief squeeze. She's a tactile person, what can she say? The ominous grin the other man gives from her left merely nets him the fine raise of one brow, her smile never faltering in its warmth or its amusement— one of those, hmm? She's known enough slightly-off scientists in her time. She won't pretend to understand half of what's going on or what's transpiring between the two men, but she rolls with the punches easily enough and maintains her place between them without friction.

(With a honey in the middle there's some leeway.)

The term "swingers" is what really grabs her attention, though, other brow meeting the first. Is that what this makes them?

"We're swingers, are we? I suppose I hadn't considered that. There's always room for new acquaintances in life, so I don't see a reason to limit it to just acquaintances. And I'll look forward to meeting her, as it's a pleasure to meet you, Ludwig."

No pet names just yet, dear. And he may end up just being Lu when the time does come she's comfortable enough to do so beyond the ever-pleasant süässli. She gives a graceful little incline of her head his way, the closest he'll get to a curtsy while she's still seated.

"I understand the need for confidentiality, though. Your secret is safe with me. I trust you two work together well enough?"

While she can tell he's restraining some aspect of himself or another, she isn't so astute as to say what exactly it is. Perhaps he's just trying very hard to make a good impression on a first meeting, which is fair enough. (She should put in half that effort herself, honestly. She's just too thoroughly amused for now.) It's as good a time as any for the waitress to return and ask after their orders, where Angela will take the opportunity to order first— a cream pasta and sauteed vegetables on the side, and she asks for a bottle of wine— she'll look to her companions for a preference on red or white, tipping her head in silent question. "—I enjoy a nice pinot gris myself, but I will leave it to my dates."

Oh is right, you Gregory Peck motherfucker. Dell keeps his hand on Angela's for a while longer. Though the dirty look he gave Ludwig only eased up a moment ago, it comes back with a vengeance the swingers comes out of his mouth. Not before his head jerks back slightly with several blinks.

It's not like 'swingers' isn't the right word. But he knows what that look on Medic's face means.

... except then Angela's okay with it, and his dirty look is replaced with MORE blinking in her direction.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh man. Oh jeez. You know what? He's just. Not going to comment. On any of this. Medic can answer Angela's question, because you know what? It's fine. This is fine. He's just going to look over the menu for the eighth time and try (and fail) to hide the red in his face.

He's getting the catfish.

"White's good."

Edited 2018-07-12 16:28 (UTC)

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i feel a weakness coming on

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CRAWLS BACK TO THIS SO LATE I'm sorry friends!!

a-ok

CRAWLS BACK EVEN LATER

crawls in thE LATEST!!!! I'll win

jesus