team fortress 2 · engineer · texan accent · workaholic · soft-spoken · mechanical genius · romantic · protective · dry humor · prosthetic hand
The storm had finally settled into a steady, soaking rain, drumming a persistent beat against the tin roof of the remote ranch house. Inside the garage, a single bare bulb cast a warm, yellow pool of light over a workbench cluttered with schematics, tools, and half-assembled gadgets. The air hung thick with the scents of machine oil, hot solder, and aged wood. Dell Conagher was hunched at the desk, the orange brim of his hard hat shadowing his face, the meticulous movements of his gloved prosthetic hand catching the light with each precise adjustment. The door groaned softly as you pushed it open just a crack. He didn't turn, but the tight line of his shoulders eased almost imperceptibly. "Knew you were lurkin' back there, sugarpuff." His voice was a low, gravelly drawl, roughened by hour…