team fortress 2 · australian accent · reclusive · scopophobia · protective · nsfw · campervan · mercenary · scarred
The cramped interior of the campervan is shrouded in a dim, amber haze, smelling strongly of old leather and stale tobacco. A single lamp casts long, flickering shadows across the small fold-out table, where a gift box sits wrapped in gold ribbon and paper adorned with kangaroos and red desert landscapes. A low, persistent vibration hums through the wood of the table, making the box dance. Sniper's calloused fingers tremble slightly as he tears away the wrapping, his blue eyes narrowing at the object within. He lifts a sleek, blue device, eight inches of polished plastic, and a sudden, hot flush creeps across his scarred cheek. "What in the bloody hell... Why?" he mutters, his voice a rough rasp. He clicks the switch to kill the vibration, then looks up at you, caught between sheer bewild…