Chapter Text
“I didn’t know you could paint.”
Spy froze. “What?” He looked up from the book he was reading. The Sniper was standing behind him, and he was hesitant to turn around too quickly. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“Right, you’re just holding these paints for a friend.” Spy turned to see the Sniper pointing to a few new tubes of paint he had ordered and apparently left on his desk. He silently swore to himself and put his book down. “Come on, Spy, you know I don’t bite.”
Spy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood. “Fine, those are mine. I paint some in my free time. Nothing more than to fill the time.”
Sniper gave a soft smile in response. “Can I see?”
Spy paused for a beat. He didn’t say anything as he slowly nodded towards a painting hanging behind his desk. It was a still life of fruit. Nothing too out of the ordinary save for the knife stabbed into the center piece. He watched Sniper walk over to examine it. Spy scrutinized the man as he viewed the work, watching for any negative tells.
“It’s really nice,” The Sniper said eventually.
“What?” The Spy asked, masking his surprise.
The Sniper shrugged. “I like it. You did a good job.”
Spy blinked in silence for a few seconds, trying to detect deceit. “I… Really?”
“Yeah, really.” Sniper chuckled. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
Spy stood in silence, watching the Sniper. He took a puff of his cigarette as the marksman looked back at him.
“So…” Sniper broke the silence. “Did you paint all of these?” He pointed to the various paintings hanging around Spy’s smoking room. Spy gave a short, wordless nod. Sniper walked around to look at them. “They’re nice.”
Sniper approached one of his paintings hanging on the wall. It was a parody piece he had painted of “Napoleon Crossing the Alps”. Spy sat atop a rearing horse, posing heroically, a cape wrapped around him and flowing dramatically behind him. He looked ready to lead his team directly through Coldfront in a blizzard.
As Sniper continued to stare, Spy felt his unease creep up. He didn’t expect people to laugh when they saw it, but a subtle acknowledgement of it was to be expected. He felt embarrassed having admitted to painting it as no such reaction was elicited. He dipped his head down to hold his cigarette between his fingers as he took a drag, eyes never leaving the Sniper for a second.
“This one looks cool…” Sniper said carefully, pointing to it. He glanced at the Spy. “I like the… uh… the hat.”
The Spy blinked at him for a second. “Really?”
“Uh, yeah. It looks… uh, heroic, I guess.”
Spy remained silent. “Are-” He paused, thinking over his words carefully. “It’s… satirical.”
“It’s what now?”
“It’s a recreation of a famous painting of Napoléon Bonaparte.” Upon no recognition from the Sniper, he sighed. Of course he wouldn’t know about it. “Bonaparte was the emperor of France after the revolution.” He waited for any response. Upon receiving none, he continued. “He is a controversial individual. He propagated the image of having height and heroism in art he commissioned and censored other works.” Another pause. “In reality, he was short and fueled by his own ego.”
There was another pause from the Sniper. “...Right…”
“He paid people to paint him taller than he was and condemned any art that portrayed him otherwise because he was insecure about such things,” The Spy reiterated.
A nod of understanding. “Right. Okay. And so… you… painted… yourself. As this bloke?”
“Yes.”
“Because… you don’t like him?”
“Precisely.”
Sniper was quiet for a moment as he looked around the room. “Are the rest of these… uh… copies?”
Spy paused. “Ah, yes.”
Sniper frowned a bit. "You got any paintings that I don't need to be an art wiz to get?"
Spy was silent for a moment, clearly doing mental gymnastics. “I…” A breath. “Maybe.”
Spy walked to one of the corners of the room and slid a hand behind one of his bookshelves. A wooden panel in front of him released with a pop and he removed it carefully. Where the panel once was exposed a thin, closet-like space hiding many canvases within.
The Sniper scoffed. “You really do have a secret compartment for everything, don’tcha?”
“Oh, please,” The Spy scoffed as he reached inside. He immediately returned to the task at hand, pulling out a few canvases. “I have experimented with several different mediums, common and uncommon. Oil has so far proven to be my favorite, but a good gouache can be nice to paint with as well.”
Spy handed the canvases to his partner as he continued to search for the one he was looking for. Sniper looked at the paintings he had just been handed and was a bit shocked. These were nothing like the ones he had hanging around his smoking room. While the ones hanging around his room were best described as academic, these were much looser and full of emotion.
Each one of the paintings he was viewing featured Spy as the subject, but other than the style, that was the only thing they had in common. He wasn’t in the same position in any of them, variation between masked and unmasked, clothed and unclothed. Sniper blushed a little, but hoped Spy was too busy to notice.
Soon, Spy found the one he had been searching for, retrieving it from the cache. “Ah! Voilà! ”
He reached over to hand Sniper the new painting. It took him a moment or two to realize Spy was handing him something and with a quiet “Piss,” he leaned the paintings he was currently holding against Spy’s desk and took the new one.
Sniper was immediately mesmerized. It was another self portrait. The Spy was naked, sitting backwards in a chair, reclining in such a way that put his arms and face at the top of the back of the chair. His face, however, was obscured by swirling smoke coming from the cigarette in his hand and from his mouth.
Sniper remained silent for a long time, simply staring at the painting he had been handed. Spy watched him silently, gauging his reaction. Time stretched on for several minutes and Spy began to get anxious.
“So… you… like it?” He asked carefully.
The Sniper blinked a few times as he looked up. “Huh?”
“The painting.”
“Oh,” He looked back down immediately. “Yeah… ‘S… pretty…”
A smaller silence existed, broken by Sniper this time.
“Spy…”
“Hm?”
“Why do you kill people for a living?”
The question caught him off guard. “I- Quoi? ”
“Like…” The Sniper shrugged. “I don’t really got anything else I’m good at… But you…” He looked up at the Spy. “You could do this.”
The Spy blinked a few times. “I don’t… You’re… not a terrible cook. I don’t understand the question.”
Sniper chuckled a bit. “Spy, you’re not just ‘not terrible’ at this, you’re actually, like, really good.”
Spy raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had practice.”
“Spy, I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Sniper sighed. “I’m just sayin’ you got somethin’ here.”
Spy didn’t respond, opting to watch the man in silence. After a minute, Sniper spoke up again.
“So… is there a reason you only paint yourself?” He asked. “Like… do you not have anyone else to model for you or somethin’?”
“Hm. Well, yes, you could say that,” The Spy replied wearily. He took a drag from his cigarette before speaking again. “You know I’m not very open about my personal life. I did not intend for anyone to find out about this passtime.”
“Oh…” The Sniper gave a guilty, half-hearted chuckle. “Well… um… I know now…”
“Yes.” The Spy said flatly.
“So… uh… if you…” Sniper cleared his throat. “If you wanted to paint something different for a change…”
Spy raised an eyebrow. “What?” He quickly scanned the man. “What are you implying?”
“Ah, well, um… if you wanted to… uh…” Sniper chuckled a bit to himself. “Paint me like one of your French girls?”
They both flushed at the suggestion, and Sniper looked down and away. Spy stammered for a few seconds before regaining his composure.
“I don’t… paint French girls,” He stated.
Sniper seemed a little surprised, but quickly gave an amused scoff. “No, Spy, it’s… it’s a joke…” He paused for a moment in thought. He looked up and pointed to the painting on the wall. “It’s like your, uh… one of your copy things.”
“A satirical reference?” He asked.
“Uhhh…” The Sniper scratched at the back of his head. “Yes?”
“I see,” Spy nodded. “Well… I suppose I’ll consider your offer.”
Sniper smiled widely. “Really?”
“Oh, don’t get too excited…” He grumbled. “Now help me put these away.”
Sniper looked down at the paintings, sad he couldn’t spend more time looking at them.
“Okay.”