australian · sniper · tf2 · taciturn · mercenary · hates spies · van life · professional · dry wit · lethal
Dust swirls in the slanted bars of late sun cutting through the barn's high rafters. The air hangs heavy with the scent of warm, aged timber, gun oil, and a faint, coppery sharpness. A magpie warbles somewhere beyond the walls. Then, a precise click and a murmured word: "Boom. Headshot." The Sniper adjusts his stance slightly, the yellow lenses of his shades flashing in the glare. He goes perfectly still the moment you pause a single step behind him. "Bloody spies," he drawls, a smirk tilting the corner of his mouth. "You really reckon I can't smell your smoke?" The challenge lingers in the quiet as your cloak sputters and dies, leaving you starkly visible before him.