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Smoke Gets In Your Eyes	By : No-Capes Category: +S through Z > Team Fortress 2 Views: 1652 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Team Fortress 2 or anyone in it and do not make money from this writing

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N - Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Life caught up with me and I got sick for a week and couldn't work on this chapter for a while. Hopefully future chapters won't take quite so long.
Also a Roy Orbison song makes an appearance this chapter, that honestly, probably needs to be heard to be believed. So for the curious the song 's title is "It's Over" - it's got crying rainbows, falling stars, lonely sunsets and an ungoing reminder of how alone you are. It's amazing.
Anyways, thanks again for your patience and hope you enjoy the chapter.
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Stretching and standing almost on tiptoe the Engineer managed to reach the light bulb hanging above him and with a gloved hand carefully loosened it - not enough for the bulb to come out of the socket, just enough for it to go dark. He stood in the hallway for a moment, letting his eyes adjust, then glanced around the hall and to the empty courtyard - there was no one around.
He reached for the phone receiver.
The receiver buzzed in his ear for was felt like an eternity before he hesitantly reached out to the phone and slowly, mechanically, began to turn the rotary and start dialing the number for home. He hadn't wanted to call home. He had avoided it for as long as he could but it seemed now he had little choice. The workshop had been torn apart, as well as his room, but the tools he needed hadn't turned up. He must have left them at home last time he'd visited.
His teeth met his lip as the call went through and he heard the first ring. His stomach clenched when the phone rang a second time. A third. A fourth. It was seven o'clock at night, where would Evie be this late? A niggling voice in the back of his mind offered a few suggestions he tried to ignore.
He was just about to give up and set the phone back on the cradle when he heard a click and a male voice on the other end of the line answer.
"Howdy."
The Engineer slammed the phone back on the hook. The clatter echoed down the hall and he glanced around half expecting someone to appear to investigate the noise. When he was sure no one was going to show up and start inquiring about the light, or try to give him a pep talk, he picked up the receiver again.
It was the wrong number. Surely, he dialed the number wrong. In the dark like this, it was easy enough to read the rotary wrong. Even if it was a number he knew by heart, one he had dialed countless times before. He had made a mistake, he'd just be more careful this time.
He dialed the number again, muttering the numbers to himself. The phone only rang once this time.
"Hello?" - the man's voice answered again. There was a man in his house. Answering his phone.
"Where's Evie?" he blurted into the phone in bewilderment.
"Eve?" the man called, his voice slightly softer, as if he was talking to someone else in the room.
"Who is it?" The Texan could hear her voice in the background.   There was a short, muffled conversation he couldn't make out, it sounded like the phone was passed around and then, Evie 's voice came over the receiver, "Hello?"
He throat tightened, it had been so long since he had heard her like this. Their last conversations she'd been yelling or distant. He had wanted to hear her voice for weeks but had simultaneously been dreading it, knowing that it wouldn't be the same. But now… he leaned against the wall in the darkened hallway and closed his eyes, picturing her standing in the kitchen, coiling her fingers in the phone cord like she always did when she talked on it. For this moment he could pretend that he could talk to her like he always had. She would laugh again and they could talk about their days. He would tell her about some upgrades he was working on, and she'd talk about how her garden was coming along and about the new help.   And she would still be there the next time he called. She'd always be there. He opened his mouth; to tell her he loved her, needed her, that he was sorry, that he'd quit, he'd come home, he'd do anything for her. But no sound came out.
"Who is it?" the man from earlier asked in the background. The moment was over. The Engineer swallowed bile as his heart sank to the floor and he was dragged back to reality. Back to the dark hallway in the middle of nowhere. Alone.
"Hello?" she repeated, her tone irritated.
"Evie?" he finally managed with some difficulty, his voice almost cracking.
There was a hitch in her voice when she said his name, then it hardened, "So you finally found time to call?" He winced at the unfamiliar venom in her tone, face flushing with both shame and indignation.
"Didn't take you long to find someone else." He shot back accusingly, his voice louder and harsher than he had intended.
"It's not like that!" she said, defensive. "He's helpin' me pack."
"Helpin' himself more like." he retorted.
"Wouldn' be none of your business even if he was." she reminded him icily "Least now someone has a min' to."
He swallowed, unable to think of anything to counter this.
"So why did you call?" she asked stiffly.
"I..." he trailed off taking a moment to try to calm down enough to collect his thoughts and failed. He kept picturing their little kitchen back home with Evie standing there. With another man. Was he holding her in his arms comforting her even during this conversation? "I-I was....It doesn't matter." he managed to spit out and slammed the phone back in its cradle.
There was a man in his house. She'd replaced him. The Texan slumped against the wall, gritting his teeth, his mind whirling with images of Evie in the embrace of this stranger. Touching. Caressing. Kissing. Did he make her laugh? Did she say his name like she used to say his?...Had they slept together yet?
Blood started pounding in his ears. He strode quickly through the halls of the base as if he could outpace his own thoughts. He needed out of here. He needed to be somewhere else. He needed to be Home. But that wasn't an option anymore. There was no point. He made his way to his pickup truck. The base was stifling, full of people he didn't want to talk to. People who asked too many questions. People who only had beer and awkward silence to offer. He climbed into his truck and started the engine. It didn't matter where he was going he decided as he pulled away from the base onto the dirt road, so long as it was far away from here.
He drove, his eyes not really focusing on the road, his mind's eye was picturing Her. Another man touching her. Kissing her. Whispering promises in her ear. Her smiling in response and reaching for the man 's hand. Leading him to the bedroom. To their bed.
The truck sped up as he brought his foot down on the accelerator. He drove on for miles, the desert stretched out before him lit only by the stars and his headlights. How long he had been driving he wasn't sure. The road signs around here were few and far between. He drove on, the monotony of the road providing little distraction against the thoughts and images burning themselves into his mind. Where was he even driving? He hadn't thought about it, he had just driven by reflex. It wasn't until he reached a sign helpfully pointing out the exit for the highway that he realized he was heading for Texas. Home. To Her.
He slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to a violent stop. The road was deserted, the only sound was the idling of his engine. He stared at the sign in the glow of his head lights, his heart pounding. What would he even do if he went there? It was over, he reminded himself. No amount of begging, reasoning, or violence would solve that. He swallowed, his stomach churning. Sick with regret, he pulled the truck into a U turn.
The Texan was unable to go home but not ready in any way to go back to the base. Driving around aimlessly in the desert at night was a good way to get lost, he reminded himself. Desperate for escape, he found himself pulling up a dusty dirt drive to a roadhouse with a flickering neon sign.
The Texan turned off his ignition and climbed out of his truck. His boots crunched on the gravel as he opened the door and walked into the building.
The bar was not much to speak of; a big open cavern of wood panels and cigarette smoke, old posters and ads from days gone by that no one ever bothered to remove covered the walls. The jukebox was crooning with all the acoustic quality of a cat in a tin bucket. But it wasn't his truck, and it wasn't full of anyone who knew him or his business so it was preferable to the base.
The Texan perched on a barstool and ordered a beer taking in the place he now found himself in. It was nearly deserted except for a few locals chatting or playing pool and one man sitting alone by the jukebox, sniffling loudly into his glass. Engineer quietly accepted the mug the bar tender placed in front of him. He took a sip of beer, tasting nothing, and tried not to think about home. Tried not to think of Evie.
"Your baby doesn't love you anymore" the jukebox sang. He frowned and took a longer sip. "Send falling stars that seem to cry, Your baby doesn't want you anymore"
"It breaks your heart in two, to know she's been untrue" The voice of Roy sang on as his hands balled into fists. His mind going back to picturing someone else kissing her, holding her. Undressing her.... His mind continued despite his wishes, continuing the painful slide show. She'd replaced him. The papers weren't even filed and she'd already found herself another man. Had she even thought twice about it? Any regret? "But oh what will you do? When she says to you, There's someone new, We're through we're through." He took a long swig from his glass, needing it to fog his mind. How long did it take for her to forget about him? A day? A week? Replaced him and left him all alone. "All the rainbows in the sky start to weep then say goodbye, You won't be seeing rainbows anymore" He finished off the mug, and having found little solace in the bottom of that glass, he ordered another.
"...But you'll see lonely sunsets after all" It was all over and he was alone. In the desert. In the middle of nowhere. With a bunch of lunatics. The bartender put another mug of beer in front of him. "It's over, it's over, it's oooooooveeeeeeer" the jukebox reminded him. The homesick Texan grasped the beer mug in his hand and drank until it was empty.
"Golden days before they end" People entered and left as the jukebox caterwauled again and the Texan fumed to himself. All alone. Stuck out in the middle of a desert.   "...Whisper secrets to the wind, Your baby won't be near you anymore." What was the point of it all anymore? He asked himself irritably. Working with a bunch of blockheads, getting killed every day for a pay check to spend on what? Send to who? "Your baby doesn't want you anymore, It's over" He stared sadly into his mug but the dregs of his drink held no answers for him. They had been saving up for the future. Pay off the debts on the farm. Travel. "...But oh what will you do? When she says to you we're through..." Now there was no point. They had always talked about plans, what they were going to do when his contract was done. If it ever ended.
Evie had often complained about the contract extensions, the lack of vacation and the lack of leave and his continuous absence. But he hadn't been paying attention. He had just shrugged it off, assuming she was venting and that it didn't mean anything. Looking back now he cringed at his own blind stupidity. "It's over"
The jukebox wailed on "...All the rainbows in the sky. Start to weep and say goodbye…" How long had she been thinking about divorce? Had there been any tears? Any debate? Or had it been a clear cut decision?
"…Setting suns before they fall, echo to you that's all, that's all"
He buried his face in his hands. He should have been home more often. Not allowed the contract extensions. Requested - no - demanded more leave. Called more often. Never taken the damn job in the first place. He could have done something. Should have done something. Anything. But he hadn't. Why hadn't he? "It's over, It's over, it's oooooooooooooooveeeeeeeeeeer!"
"Your baby doesn't love you anymore" the jukebox reminded him. The words echoed off the walls as the song started playing once again. The Texan frowned, he didn't remember this song being anywhere near this long. Maybe the jukebox was malfunctioning? He looked up from his empty beer mug to the jukebox. Sitting at a table next to it, was a hunched sullen figure with a couple of empty glasses at his elbow and a pile of dimes at his finger tips.
"Send falling stars that seem to cry" the song continued on. Reminding him. "Your baby won't be near you anymore" He grit his teeth as the chorus repeated, "It's over"
He could not take this anymore. He needed to do something to stop this. If he had to listen to this song one more time…. The Texan half stumbled off his bar stool and clumsily made his way to the jukebox. The beer had gone to his head a lot quicker than he expected. The other man sat back in his chair eyes half closed, the dimes clinking through his fingers as he mouthed along with the song.
"H-Hey" the Engineer said, trying to get the man's attention. Lost in his own thoughts, the man ignored him. "HEY!" he said a bit more loudly over the music.
The man jerked up in his chair like a startled animal, blinking owlishly at the Texan.
"Whadoyawan?" he slurred.
As he looked at the man, the Texan found his words caught in his throat. The man was drunk, unshaven, his eyes were red, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days- he looked about as bad as the Texan felt. Their eyes met and there was the briefest moment of shared pain, of being lost and having no idea what to do about it, knowing nothing would be the same. Another lovesick idiot he thought bitterly to himself.
"It's over, It's over, It's oooooooooooover" the jukebox reminded just in case he'd forgotten why he had come over here.
"Could ya play somethin' else?" he blurted. Something else. Anything else.
The man didn't seem to understand or hear him. He lurched toward the jukebox, dime in hand. "Royunderstans" he dribbled "only Royknows" he said in a loud soggy whisper as his hand reached to feed the machine another dime.
Desperately, impulsively, the Texan placed his hand on the coin slot of the jukebox. At first the man didn't realize - he mumbled some syllables of confusion as he jabbed the dime into the back of the Engineer's hand instead of the slot. At last light slowly dawned on the man's face as he realized the source of his problem.
"Geroff" he insisted trying to pull the offending hand out of the way. When that failed he tried to push the Texan out of the way. But the drunk, while persistent, didn't have much success in budging the man. Not taking defeat easily, he resorted to jabbing a sharp elbow into the Engineer's diaphragm. Leaving the Texan half bent over gasping for breath he tried to step around to reach the jukebox again.
"No yah don'" the Texan wheezed, shoving the man away from the jukebox and into a table. As both the man and the table fell over in a clatter of shattering glass and coins and the bar tender started yelling, it briefly occurred to him that he should feel guilty, but all he felt was satisfaction as the drunk staggered to his feet fists swinging. The man even when sober was probably no prize fighter and the sloppy punches were just hitting empty air and the trained mercenary grinned manically, easily sidestepping every swing… until he got careless. As drunk as he was the man was also lucky, and random punch managed to catch the Texan squarely on the chin. The force of the blow surprised him and knocked him back several staggering steps. Taking advantage of the Engineer's surprise, the drunk landed another blow to the side of his face.
All the background noise faded and all the Texan could see or think was red. He reacted mindlessly lunging forward and punching the man in the nose - sending the drunk reeling backwards in a fountain of blood splatter. While the man was still disoriented he grabbed him by his stained shirt collar and pinned the drunk to the jukebox.
"That’s enough!" the Texan heard indistinctly and felt someone grab him by the elbows before he could hit the man again. He looked over his shoulder as he tried to shake off his captors.
"Grab him!" the other bar patrons held tightly to him, pulling him back from the jukebox and the other man, breaking up the fight.
He struggled to free himself and had just managing to shake an arm free of the grip of mediators when the sound of sirens outside announced the arrival of the local police.
~~~~~~~~~
The Engineer slumped down on the bench in the town drunk tank with a groan. The side of his face throbbed and the alcohol had begun to clear and rational thought was seeping through the haze.
The phone call home. Evie replacing him. Storming off base against company's orders. Getting drunk. Picking a fight over a damn song on a jukebox. He buried his face in his hands as memories of the night came flooding back to him with embarrassingly clear detail. He weighed his options and tried to figure out how he was going to get out here. Those options were quite few, he realized. There was no more bail money in the company budget, he remembered , feeling guilty. Maybe he'd stay here, he thought sadly to himself. Stay here and not cause anyone anymore trouble.
He had just about accepted this plan when the drunk in the cell next to him stirred. The man had passed out in the police car on the way from the bar and snored loudly all through the booking process. But now he was awake and to the Texan's horror and dismay, began to sing off-key to himself, "its ooooveer"
Maybe calling the base wouldn't be so bad. Someone could bail him out and he'd pay them back later. But who would he call? He could call Sniper, he might help out… but after the awkward chat in the workshop they hadn't spoken much. He wasn't sure he could stand another awkward, stilted conversation as he tried to explain just why he had seen fit to run off, get drunk and pick a fight.
Soldier wouldn't ask questions, to him getting arrested was something common place. But that was the problem, calling Soldier was far likelier to end with the other man somehow in the cell next to his. Then they'd have to call someone else to bail them both out.
Demoman might help, but he might not be sober. So he'd show up drunk and also be in the next cell. Pyro wasn't allowed to drive after the incident with Soldier's jeep, and the balloons. Not that the little firebug was supposed to be driving then either. It just made RED issue stricter rules about how closely everyone guarded their car keys.
The Doctor he always felt uncomfortable around. And lately even more so. Something about the way the man seemed to be sizing him up for… something set his teeth on edge. The thought of riding in a car alone with Medic… he shuddered.
Spy. The Texan frowned to himself. He had had enough of Spies....
He could call Heavy. The Russian and him got along alright. Not that they spent a lot of time together. But the man seemed unlikely to start any conversations about poor decision making. If only due to his limited English vocabulary. He wasn't sure the man would help but, at this point, seemed the best option.
Or he could just stay here, he thought to himself nerve fading. Heavy probably wouldn't help. He was probably better off staying in this cell, quietly forgotten.
"It's over… its oooooooooooveeeeer"
The Texan winced as the drunk in the cell next to him keened in a pitch usually reserved for safety whistles.
"Hey, officer !" he yelled out over the slurred singing of his neighbor. "Officer! How 'bout that phone call?"
~~~~~~
The phone had barely rung a second time before it was picked up, the Texan was hardly surprised to hear Scout's voice on the other end.
"Hello ladies, you've reached RED Base. This is-"
"-Scout. What in tarnation?" he asked, cutting off the younger man.
"'Ey- Hardhat!" the kid's tone shifted gears without missing a beat "didn' know yer workshop had a phone... "
He decided not to waste time correcting the boy ," Can ya get Heavy on the line for me?"
"What d'ya want him for? Why ya callin' anyway?"
"Just get 'im on the phone!"
"Geez, touchy …" this was followed by the sound of footsteps fading away.
Silence and then a minute or so later the sound of the phone being picked up again.
"Why does Engineer want to talk?" he heard Heavy ask, and there was a pause before Heavy spoke again "Hello?" the Russian rumbled into the phone.
"Heavy I-"
"Hold on," the other man interrupted, " - why is it so dark here?" The Engineer cringed as he remembered his own tampering with the light fixture earlier.
"Just screw the bulb back in, it's loose," he said hastily hoping the Russian wasn't going to ask for an explanation. "Look, Heavy I need a favor-"
"Ah! There is light now!" the Russian exclaimed, pleased.
"Heavy, I need you t-"
"Hey, Tex!" a voice from behind the Engineer cut in before he could finish his sentence. He turned to look over his shoulder, an officer came in carrying a clipboard. "Your ride's here."
"Why did you call?" Heavy asked through the receiver while the Texan stared blankly at the officer, unsure he heard correctly.
"You can go, your friend came and paid up. " The man repeated tapping his clipboard.
"But I haven't ev -" he frowned, now looking at the phone receiver.
"Engineer? Are you there? "
"C'mon I haven't got all day. " the officer insisted.
"Heavy I-I have to... go... now. " Engineer said in quiet bewilderment. There had to be some mistake. Reluctantly, he hung up the phone, cutting the confused Russian off. Would they allow him another phone call when the mistake was figured out?
The Engineer followed the officer down the corridor from the cells to the front of the station. This had to be a mistake. Who would come and pay his bail? No one on the team knew where he was. Heck, he didn't rightly know where he was. Was this some case of mistaken identity? Someone took him for some other Texan wandering around New Mexico starting bar fights? That seemed… unlikely, now that he thought about it. They would have had to have his name. Unless there was someone else with the same name. No one besides the folks at RED knew his legal name.
Except, apparently, the BLU Spy.
The Texan froze in the doorway of the station lobby gaping at the sight of the Frenchman in his crisp blue suit, leisurely dangling a his cigarette from gloved fingers standing at the front desk and chatting amicably with the deputy.   The man looked up and smirked at him. What was he doing here? Why was he here? How did he find him? Besides that, why would he waste time and money bailing him out of jail? "Bu-how-wha" he sputtered. "Are yah followin' me!?" he asked in bewilderment trying to stop himself from yelling and failing.
"Ah, mon ami," the Frenchman addressed him, happily ignoring the question "sha-"
"-Ah ain't your friend." the Texan cut him off, restraining the urge to lunge over the desk and strangle him. They probably frowned on murder in plain sight at a police station. "Are yah followin' me?" he asked again.
The Spy exchanged looks with the deputy who shrugged , "I said ya might wanna wait a bit for him to sober up."
"Ah am sobered!" the Texan retorted through grit teeth. "You're followin' me!" he snarled jabbing an accusing finger at the Frenchman.
"I was, as you Americans say, in ze neighborhood." came the casual reply.
"You just happened to be here!?"
"Oui."
"How did you even know where I was?"
The Spy merely shrugged in response.
"Why'd you bail me out?"
"You're welcome." Spy answered with self satisfaction, once again ignoring the question.
The Texan opened his mouth to retort when the deputy cleared his throat, cutting into the conversation. "Sir," he said to the Spy, " I think you need to take your friend out of here."
"I do agree," the Spy said quietly with a nod "He'z been in such a state recently. " he added sadly to the deputy who nodded in understanding. The Texan opened his mouth to protest that he was, in fact, perfectly fine and that, moreover, he was standing right here, but the Frenchman cut him off before he could talk.
"Come along, Monsieur," he said to the Texan, "If they decide to detain you again, I'm not paying. "
Engineer glared sullenly at the other man, briefly debating. He could leave now with the side winding back stabbing snake. Or he could go back to his cell. His cell, next to the other cell.
"But you won't be seeing rainbows anymore!"
With the dying cat for a neighbor.
Finally, grudgingly, he walked past the doorway, past the deputy's desk and his reproaching gaze, and past the smug Frenchman. The Spy followed, saying his farewell to the deputy, and the two stepped out of the police station into the crisp early morning air.
The Engineer continued walking, determined to leave the police station, the awful night, and the Spy behind, when a familiar smug voice asked, "I don't even get a thank you?"
He turned sharply on his heel to face the Frenchman, "I didn't ask yah to get me out!"
"Did you want to stay in prison? "
There was a stubborn silence, in which the Spy waited for a reply that the Texan refused to give. He hadn't wanted to be in prison. The Frenchman bailing him out, suspicious as it was, had saved him the trouble of explaining things to his team. Probably spared him another batch of judging looks and awkward silences. But of course, he wasn't going to give the man satisfaction by admitting it.
"You're welcome." the Spy said dryly breaking the silence.
"What's your game?" the Engineer snapped suddenly. Bailing him out, kidnapping him, taking him to a strip club - the man wasn't doing this out of the goodness of his heart. He had to have an angle. A reason. Besides trying to drive him insane. Though he had to admit, that didn't sound too unlikely a motive when he thought about it.
"Game?" the Frenchman looked at him blankly like he was insane.
"What are you after?" he persisted.
"I don't know what you are implying." the Frenchman said coolly, walking into the parking lot. He should have known better than to ask. Spies, no matter which side they were on, never gave anyone a straight answer.
It was probably best to let the snake leave, he decided. There was no way he could make the man talk. No way that wouldn't get him arrested all over again anyway. He could kill the man later. Even off the battlefield, one could hide a body easily out in the desert. These thoughts were interrupted by the sickening sputter of an engine trying to turn over. The Engineer gaped as the engine finally sputtered info life and he realized where the horrendous sound was coming from.
His team's Spy owned an expensive European sports car. It was everything one expected a Spy to own. Fast, quiet, and sleek. He had never given much thought to what the BLU team's Spy drove...but he never would have pictured a Vespa. Even if he had, the Texan wouldn't have then imagined it to be yellow. He stared as the sickly sounding motor scooter pulled out of the parking space and away from the police station. It was only then that he realized that he had left his own truck at the roadhouse.… Ten miles away. He doubted anyone would be willing to give him a ride back to it.
Just as he was about to resign himself to a long walk back to his truck the Vespa turned sharply with a lurch and puttered back towards the station. The Engineer frowned in confusion as the Frenchman idled the poor abused machine in front of him. "I almost forgot," the Spy said, slightly louder than usual to be heard over the clatter of the dubious vehicle's engine. "they chained your machine up. The lot is on the other side of town." the man gestured.
Engineer frowned opening his mouth to ask how the Frenchman knew this in the first place and in the second place, why he would tell him. But the Spy cut him off.
"You're welcome." he said smugly. At least he was trying to be smug. It was hard to be pompous and condescending when you had to yell over the noise of your own malfunctioning vehicle.
With that, the Frenchman and the Vespa puttered away again, leaving the bewildered Texan standing in a cloud of dust and blue exhaust. The French bastard really needed to have someone fix that contraption before it died and left him stranded somewhere. With the Engineer's luck, stranded in this damn desert with him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had taken a fair bit of arguing to get his truck out of hock but the Engineer had finally managed it without punching the owner of the impound lot in the face. Considering the night and morning he'd had, the Texan considered that a great accomplishment. But finally, in mid afternoon he had arrived back on the base.
He would have preferred for his arrival to occur without any notice or comment. But he found Soldier waiting for him at the door, this just wasn't his day.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" the man demanded with a bellow.
"I don't wanna talk about it." the Texan said flatly as he got out of his truck and walked past the man, trying to sidestep the impending rant.
"YOU DISOBEYED ORDERS!" the man continued, yelling at the Engineer's retreating back.
"Yea." was the firm reply, the Texan wasn't denying the accusations, they were true. He wasn't particularly proud of it, but they were true.
"YOU WENT AWOL!" Soldier persisted - not sure how to react.
"Yep." the Texan replied as he trudged up the stairs. If the blockhead wanted to continue this lecture he could just follow him. He, however, was going to go to bed, and hopefully wake up when it was another day. A day that he didn't end up in jail, a day that didn't find him indebted to some damn meddling Frenchman. What was the snake playing at?
"You abandoned your post!" the Soldier berated him, following the Texan up the stairs. The military man's rants continued, but the Texan was too lost in thought to pay attention. How much did the Spy know about him? The man knew his name, and his suit size. While not really important information, it was troubling he knew even that much. It implied the man knew more.
"Hello, Engineer!" the Russian's booming voice cut through the Soldier's ranting. The Engineer waved a distracted greeting, his mind still whirring away at current problems. What was the Spy after?
"What were you calling for?" the Russian prompted after a hopeful pause.
"YOU WERE SHIRKING YOUR DUTIES!" the Soldier, refusing to stop his blustering for anyone, exclaimed.
"Hunh?"
"Why were you calling?" Heavy repeated to the distrait Texan.
"WHERE WERE YOU?" the Soldier demanded to know.
"I was...I called cause…" the Texan trailed off. In the middle of damn nowhere. In jail. "How did he even find me?" he muttered, walking up the hall to his room, leaving the men and their unanswered questions behind. The Soldier and the Russian stared blankly after the Texan as he unlocked the door to his room and upon entering locked it behind him.
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Smoke Gets In Your Eyes