tosbox | making my way downtown

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making my way downtown

[The big issue here isn't getting fired. No, Spy will be fine for now, considering all that he's saved. Losing a resource as powerful as RED and Mann Co in general is a blow indeed, but Spy can get by. Right now, he's more concerned about living and making sure none of his loose ends catch up to him.

Most of the things he's taking back with him are either essential or expensive. The weapon magazines and catalogues sent by RED are still sitting in his old quarters, along with some leisure books and even some pieces of his old uniform. The suit has always been a part of his look, so he keeps some of it; they make for some decent padding for the wine stored in the trunk of his car.

With his tie slung around his neck and his jacket over his arm, Spy makes a mental checklist of all he needs. His life is pretty much stowed away in his wallet: bank cards, multiple IDs, cash, miniature cloaking device, plane tickets... He pats his pants pocket for the only thing that doesn't fit in his wallet: his passport. Not that he'll need it for the flight, but it's good to have these things just in case.

A tiny part of his brain nags at him, urging him to feel sentimental about leaving his workplace of over four years. But to hell with that - god knows this won't be the last he's seen of them.

When Scout hobbles up to his car, a mess of stupidity and arm casts, Spy is tempted to slam the door in his face and make him eat his dust trail. But, of course, the little mongrel has to pull the mother card and all of a sudden Spy feels responsible.]

I have a jet leaving in fifty minutes. You've got twenty. Get in the car.

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[ This idiot was going to take a minute to get into the damn car. Of course Medic split before he could heal up Scout's arms, that was just his luck. Now he was feeling like one of those snowmen they made in his youth with stiff pipe arms, minus a lot of the dirt. He managed to flex his fingers around the door and pry it open, carefully weaving himself into the car. His right arm was going to be a permanent fixture in Spy's vision for the foreseeable ride.

The other one he rolls down the window for so it can stick out. Thankfully they're in the desert and he doesn't stand to get it clipped off by much. By the time he's got the door shut, he's panting a bit from the effort so he doesn't speak for a moment. ]

No severance pay, no worker's comp. Dis is bullshit.

[ What the hell is he gonna be able to do like this? Well, his mom would help him figure it out, once he got their savings out of the bank. Fortunately, despite what he told Spy, she had the sense not to let Scout handle all their money. ]

[Spy is not helping, even if it would lessen the time it takes for his teammate to clamber into the car. He adjusts his aviators with one hand and pulls out his cigarette case with the other.]

It was not exactly a planned event, Scout. Be content zhat we 'ad an opportunity to clear out like zhis.

[Popping a cig into his mouth, he pulls out of the base and hits the road. He lights it one handed, checking his mirrors for any surprises.]

What zhe 'ell 'appened to your arms, anyway?

Broke 'em. Fractured 'em. Whuteva.

[ No shit, Scout. ]

Robots.

[ He groans, flopping his head over onto the stiff arm jutting out the window. ]

Frickin' robots takin' our frickin' jobs. This was the best job I ever had!

[ He eyes Spy. ]

You must be happy, though.

Fought zhem 'til zhe last moment, hmm?

[It would almost be amusing if not for the fact that Spy had been expecting to ditch Scout, not take him along for some joyride. But, somehow, it's not much of a surprise at this point.

Throwing his teammate a glance, Spy quirks a brow.]

And what makes you zhink zhat?

Well, in case you didn't notice, if you bust 'em open, they give you money.

[ There's not a lot of joy to be had on this ride, though he's trying because this is a wicked sweet car and he certainly should be enjoying it. ]

I thought you told me you hate America. Well, here's yer excuse to leave, right?

We 'ave earned so much money.

[Then again, considering Scout's family situation - which is not only in his file, but in their four years together, Scout has talked about it a lot - Spy isn't surprised he's a bit hungry.

At that, Spy chuckles dryly.]

I won't be content until I am on zhat plane and landing in France. Besides, being in our little bubble of nine for four years shakes off a feeling of "America" and gives more of a feeling of... Hah. Living wizh idiots for four years.

[ Well, it's not all about the money, of course, but it's that language they all speak... spoke. ]

Yeah, I ain't gonna miss any of you assholes. 'specially not Soldier or Pyro. Those guys... were friggin' nuts.

[ Says the guy that likes beating merc heads in with a baseball bat. ]

You know one thing I always wondered about you, Spy?

[There really aren't many words to describe how fucking batshit insane they are, so Spy won't comment. He gives his teammate another look.]

Oh? What is zhat?

[ Hey pal, you're just as sane as they are. ]

How bad are those tan-lines?

[ Scout tries to gesture with his hand but finds it's entombed in a cast and his arms can't move. He licks his lips instead in an exaggerated circle. ]

Like, I know you ain't takin' that mask off when you get to France for a couple-a months. Those're some pasty people, Spy.

[A quiet, strangled noise drifts out of Spy's mouth as he rolls his eyes. It's so out of the blue he doesn't know what to say at first.

He pulls off a glove and sticks out his arm for Scout to examine. His sleeves are already rolled up to his elbows, and every now and then they get some sun, but his hands? Ghostly.]

Of all zhe inane questions... I will be investing time on some remote roof or somezhing to fix zhe problem.

[ See Spy, he can surprise you at times!

And Scout's actually surprised when Spy pulls off his glove and shows him his hand, the look on his face suggesting he might not have been sure Spy had them.

Then he gives an exaggerated wince. ]

Eesh! Put 'em away, yer blindin' me here!

[ He has to snicker a little to himself, though, at the images that it brings mind. ]

[Spy is so tempted to smack Scout upside the head. Actually, why the hell not? It's not like the kid can fight back. So he swats at the brat's head before reeling his arm back to replace his glove on his hand.]

Zhese 'ands? Zhey can push you out of zhe car and leave you rolling in zhe dust. Zhe temptation is so strong.

[The car passes a sign that indicates they should be in Teufort within ten minutes. Spy could always just speed, but knocking around an already beat up Scout doesn't sound like a very practical idea.]

[ Scout too realizes how much of a disadvantage he's at when Spy swats him easy as you please. He gives a reproachful look that's more out of principle than anything. ]

C'mon Spy, that was funny. I'm sittin' over here in a cast, I wish tan-lines was the least of my problems.

[ Speaking of problems, Scout stares out the windshield. ]

You think Miss Pauling's okay? She didn't even show up to say good-bye, fuck you, nuthin'.

You are zhe opposite of funny.

[And Spy is an asshole, but what's new?

Spy groans, knocking the heel of his palm into the wheel.]

Pour l'amour de dieu. She is intelligent and capable, I am certain she was one of zhe first to leave, cleaning up 'er trail as she went. God knows zhat Gray Mann character could do even more damage if 'e 'ad 'er working for 'im.

What? She ain't workin' for him, no fuckin' way!

[ Seeing as he's the enemy right now, Scout has no way of looking at the situation objectively because he still likes Miss Pauling. ]

You're right, though, she probably got away and just couldn't afford to come by. Miss Pauling's wicked smart.

[ That didn't mean he wasn't still bothered. ]

I just said zhat I doubt she is. I'm sure she's fine.

[Turning into Teufort now. Spy breathes in the last of his cigarette before tossing it over Scout's shoulder and out the window. For a moment, he seems to roll the smoke in his mouth, then he releases it in rings.]

No point in wasting energy on someone who probably 'asn't spared you a second zhought.

What the hell do you know anyway?

[ And Spy stabs him without even having to take out his balisong. Scout fumes, and for once seems like he might be silent for a significant stretch of time. ]

...Zhere's being 'opeful, zhen zhere's being 'opeless. I feel zhat sometimes you must at lesst try to save a man from delusion.

[His words sound harsh, but he means the best, really. His tone is low, careful, trying for objective and detached. And if it'll get Scout to shut up about their dear Miss Pauling? It'll be worth it.]

[ Scout broils silently, but there's a part of him that suspects Spy is right, and that part hurts. It's even more frustrating that he can barely move, sitting there feeling like he's cocooned in his anger and misery.

Still, the quiet after a few moments seems unbearable. He needs to break something, if not free, and silence was the most fragile thing here. ]

You know where it is, right? I hope it's the dime in there today and not that old lady.

[ It was that old lady, unfortunately for him, not that the 'dime' wanted anything to do with him anyway. ]

Oui, oui, je sais. Trust me.

[That's a thought that could extend in many ways, but Spy won't get ahead of himself.

They pull up next to the bank. They'll be in and out; Spy doesn't bother with proper parking, plus it means less stagger time for his injured teammate.

Spy slips out of the car and gets to the other side in three steps. Then he's pulling the car open and reaching forward to lend Scout some assistance.]

[ Scout eyes Spy suspiciously as he reaches in, still a little sore about what he said, but ultimately accepts the help. He's going to need Spy to get his stuff and drive him to the airport still, he thinks. It wouldn't be bad to offer a little honey instead of vinegar for once; he wasn't going to be seeing the guy for much longer. He hobbles out of the car, and is fine once he's got his balance. ]

T'anks.

[ And off to the doors he's going, where he'll reveal their 'savings' and the cops will starve them inside of the vault until they're weak enough to be dragged out. ]

[It's been a long time since Spy's been in jail. Considering his choices, his career, and his general attitude towards authority, it's almost surprising that he hasn't spent more of his time here. Then he remembers that he's good at his job now and dismisses the thought.

Besides, it's not his fault that he's here. His current situation is a direct result of stupidity clashing head on with stupidity. That is to say, the idiotic people of Teufort and his useless teammate.

At least he has cigarettes. They never let him down. Well, not directly. His lungs could protest in that regard, but. The sweet nicotine.

Spy leans his weight onto one arm braced against a cell wall, half turned away from his teammate.]

Why. Why are you continuously a t'orn in my side t'at I cannot remove?

You sayin' somethin'?

[ Scout wasn't listening. He was laying on his back in his bunk, staring at the latticework of metal that held up the mattress above. Of course, he wasn't thinking of the frame, or even about being in jail so much. He'd been there before, before he was employed by RED, but the last time he had was when he'd been considered a juvenile delinquent. ]

They gonna feed us any time soon? You see anyone out there?

[ He was still suffering from those days they were locked in the vault to make Spy less harmful to remove. ]

[Sucking sullenly on a cigarette, huddling up on himself in the corner.]

You're being conditioned. Don't let t'em control you wit' food.

[Never mind the fact that Spy's been relying on his cigarettes to kill his appetite. He looks out into the corridor anyway, nothing better to do.]

I was just lamenting my fate wit' you. If you even care.

[Dramatic sniffle.]

Yeah! How come any time I go out wit you, I end up gettin' put on trial?

[ Squinting at the other now. ]

At least Soldier ain't gonna be here ta try n get me the chair.

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making my way downtown

great now that song is stuck in my head lol

just as planned.gif

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updating his accent after spending more time around francophones

the accent struggle is real

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