Syrrus
Wishful bard
The Engineer had spent his morning drinking his coffee and reading the local newspaper, while the spinning and purring of his level1 sentry sang where it stood upon the floor next to him. Dell Conagher, which was his actual name was waiting for a few guests, guests he was not to keen on having around - though Miss Pauling had made it quite clear to him that he had little choice and being a man of practical problem solving he thought it dumb to argue. This was why he sat upon his porch and listened to the silent echoes of the Texas wilderness around and the humming of a vehicle engine in the far distance.
The Spy had first picked up The Scout all the way in Brooklyn and have had to hit him multiply times over the back of his head for putting his disgusting feet upon on the dashboard of Spy's favourite machine in the whole wide world; his red convertible. It was not until he had stopped his car and Scout had leaped out that Spy could breath calmly again, with his fifty-third cigarette hanging from his bottom lip.
"What sort of trash joint is this suppose to be?" Asked Scout, clearly not amused by the small two level house. Engineer peered at his two RED teammates over the top of his newspaper before turning the page and giving it all his attention, without saying another word. "Yo! Engy, you got here first?"
"Heck, why not; yes, yes I did." Engineer responded by folding his newspaper up and placing it on the table to his right. He looked rather odd without his goggles, they were laying next to him upon the table, too. "Hey!" Scout shouted and pulled his hands up in the air. "Who are you and what have you done to Engin-" A slap form Spy was enough to shut the little sad man up, as the Frenchman walked up to the table.
"Afternoon, labourer." Spy said with a unimpressed expression upon his face. Engineer said nothing and simply folded his arms across his chest.
@trumma
The Spy had first picked up The Scout all the way in Brooklyn and have had to hit him multiply times over the back of his head for putting his disgusting feet upon on the dashboard of Spy's favourite machine in the whole wide world; his red convertible. It was not until he had stopped his car and Scout had leaped out that Spy could breath calmly again, with his fifty-third cigarette hanging from his bottom lip.
"What sort of trash joint is this suppose to be?" Asked Scout, clearly not amused by the small two level house. Engineer peered at his two RED teammates over the top of his newspaper before turning the page and giving it all his attention, without saying another word. "Yo! Engy, you got here first?"
"Heck, why not; yes, yes I did." Engineer responded by folding his newspaper up and placing it on the table to his right. He looked rather odd without his goggles, they were laying next to him upon the table, too. "Hey!" Scout shouted and pulled his hands up in the air. "Who are you and what have you done to Engin-" A slap form Spy was enough to shut the little sad man up, as the Frenchman walked up to the table.
"Afternoon, labourer." Spy said with a unimpressed expression upon his face. Engineer said nothing and simply folded his arms across his chest.
@trumma