A Little Red Realignment (TF2)

- He Said, She Said -

"Oh no, our Medic's gone stupid!" Soldier's cry prompted a fit of arguing and profanities at the table.

Misha stood from the table, not caring for the direction the conversation had turned.

The clock struck 8 and Soldier stood his freshly polished boots neatly against the foot of his bed with a proud smile. As always, he did great that day in battle. Lieutenant Bites seemed to think so, moving closer to receive a few head pats. Jane lied back on his bed, sitting back, helmet falling over his eyes with no intention to fall asleep - he was simply resting his eyes until curfew. After all, it wasn't like he had much else to do. Maybe their demoman was up for cards, he thought to himself.

His rest, however, was short lived when it was interrupted by heavy footsteps moving down the hallways. The footsteps, without a doubt, belonged to their resident heavy weapons guy. Soldier once again rose to his feet, moving to the door and peering down the hallway. He fought back a crude cry, remembering the number of threats he'd received last time he'd disturbed the other's quiet hours. "What are you doing up?"

Heavy raised his head in surprise, "Sandvich." Heavy was not much of a speaker; Soldier could respect that. "Okay."

Soldier allowed Heavy to pass him, but not without trailing behind to follow. Heavy, of course, was not Jane's first choice of company, but he didn't mind. Evening company was evening company, after all. Heavy didn't seem to mind Soldier trailing along on the venture to the kitchen; that, or he didn't notice.

As he watched Heavy at the counter, making a sandwich, Soldier thought to himself. Something about the other man just wasn't quite the same as himself. He disregarded this train of thought when Heavy turned around to face him.

"Why are you here?" His voice was one of curiosity, rather than impatience, though it did harbor a twinge of annoyance that Jane was impervious to. "I need company. You are company."

This seemed to satisfy the larger man, as he turned and picked his newly made sandwhich from the counter. "I do not plan on drinking with you."

"That's fine by me."

How exactly Heavy ended up shoulder to shoulder with Soldier on the floor, leaning against the wall, he couldn't tell you.

In a sudden surge of confidence, Heavy asked, "did you really mean what you said?"

"Do you mean to tell me you actually believe Italy is a country?"

"No, not that. Earlier at dinner you said that doktor was crazy." This drew a long sigh from the Soldier. He spoke without hesitation and Heavy expected his predictable absentminded arrogance. It didn't come, however. "No, comrade, I don't think our doctor's gone stupid quite yet. He's not a god-fearing American like you and me, that's for sure, but he's an American alright." Heavy knew better than to correct him. "They call me crazy, too, you know." And for good reason, Heavy thought.

Jane reached for the beer at his side, taking a swig, "I'm not gone yet, though. For the time being, at least." Jane was oddly insightful after a drink or too. Maybe they should convince him to drink more often.

"What do you mean...?" Heavy, himself, swirled his own, barely touched, drink. He tried to stay open minded, he did, but he would be lying if he said he expected such serious company from the other.

"Huh? Don't listen to me, soldier, I've been drinking." His absent minded smile returned all too soon and he raised a hand to lower his helmet once again. "I'm just saying, our Medic's a damn good one. True embodiment of the American vision; dedication and war!"