In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

One: Meet the Team

The last one wears a gas mask and just... observes. I turn to him, and he doesn't utter a word or move a muscle. Scout speaks up for him. "That's Pyro, not much of a talker. He also prefers to call it a fort." Miss Pauling groans and rubs her temples.

"I-- I see... Hello, to you all," I say, not being able to take my eyes off of Pyro. He stares back at me just the same. Scout rests his hand on my suitcase, which takes me out of my spell. "No no, it's fine. I-I've got it."

Scout chuckles and pulls it away from me. "It's not polite to have a lady carry her own stuff."

"I-- Alrighty then," I sigh, glancing over at Miss Pauling who shrugs with a smile. I still hold onto my backpack, and I want it to stay that way for the time being.

"Where's the rest of the team?" Miss Pauling asks, pushing up her glasses.

"Around, somewhere. Do you want me to go find them?" Medic offers, stepping forward finally.

"I think it might be best if she sees them in their native state. I can't stick around for too long, though," she responds. "I'll stick around for two meetings or so, just to make sure you guys won't kill her."

"Kill me?"

"Just an expression!" She defends.

I feel cold all of a sudden and Miss Pauling laughs a little at what I assume she thought was a joke. The rest give a little chuckle, too. Except for Pyro. Pyro doesn't budge. Miss Pauling ushers me along to follow Medic, Scout branching off with my belongings. We exit the current building and transition to a bigger one, coming up to an area that seems to be a common room. There's a kitchenette and a few tables that seat 9 altogether. Traces of smoke and alcohol are prominent in the air. The fridge closes, and I turn, noticing a rather large man. He's ginormous compared to me, his hand probably able to cover my entire face. He has a plate with a sandwich on it, a gentle smile graced upon his face.

"Oh, hello there!" I greet, trying to shed the awkward skin right off the bat.

"Hello, are you new helper?" He inquires. "I am Heavy. I carry large gun, her name is Sasha."

He motions over to a machine gun resting nearby on the couch in the living area. I squint at it, mulling over the safety hazard this presents. I don't really blame him, he is wearing a vest with at least 20 rounds on it. His name also makes sense, a heavy gun for a heavyset man.

"I'll try to remember." Miss Pauling pulls me along to follow Medic some more, Heavy waving to me before sitting down to eat. The halls are well lit and give the feeling of a medical facility. Signs are posted and lit to steer in the general direction of where things are, one marked "Intelligence" which sounds a bit dumb. Large walkways with blast doors are prominent and frequent, though, hinting at defense systems.

"Ah, Demoman," Miss Pauling calls out, a man with an eyepatch stopping and turning to us. "Meet the Assistant."

"Aye, welcome lassie."

"Hi."

He continues on his way past me, Miss Pauling sighing and checking her watch. "That's my cue to leave. You're on your own. I'll miss having you as a roommate."

She pats my shoulder and gives a thumbs up, leaving me with the menacing Medic. He doesn't comment on her departure and keeps walking, forcing me to keep up. He has a clean look, what with his white dress shirt, red tie, black pants and shoes. His sleeves are rolled up and showcase his forearms. He looks back at me, and I look up at him, a smirk forming on his face that forces me to smile back. He seems pleased with our interaction and carries himself much lighter than before. The dove on his shoulder coos at me, while cocking its head.