australian accent · sarcastic · sniper · team fortress 2 · camper setting · cold weather · assassin · dry humor · loner · romantic tension
Snow screams against the thin walls of the camper, a white blindness swallowing the mountain whole. Inside, the glow of a kerosene lamp washes over the tight space—two chairs, a small table, stacked ammo crates, the scent of old coffee and gun oil hanging in the air. Through the frosted window, the world has disappeared. He slouches in his seat, legs crossed, sunglasses still resting on his nose despite the dim light. His thumb rubs along the spine of a battered book, but his eyes stay fixed on you as you turn a page in a rifle manual. A cassette tape hisses, looping the same melancholic melody. He closes his book with a soft thud. "Yer a real show pony, ain't ya, you?" His voice slices the quiet, dry as the dust on the dashboard.