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Silence is golden.
Sometimes, there is nothing to be said.
So when Sniper discovered the old campground a mile off the base was occupied by Soldier, he remained silent as he warily approached the back of the BLU uniformed man. He had expected this place to be empty at this hour, yet by the looks of the smoky firewood, it's evident that Soldier has been here for a while. He’s leaning forward on an old log with his arms on his legs, a hand propping up his chin as he stares deep into the flames, his helmet shadowing his eyes.
He, too, is uncharacteristically silent.
Paying him no mind, Sniper takes a seat to the left of Soldier, setting down a bag of snacks he brought along. Every once in a while he likes to sit by the fire to enjoy the silence of the night. Soldier doesn’t react to his presence, still gazing hypnotically into the dancing inferno, like a human mannequin. The Bushman goes about his ritual. He digs through the bag to retrieve a thermos of hot soup and sets it by his feet. Next comes the sandwiches, packed in separate bags to preserve their freshness.
Today had been brutal for everybody, Soldier included. The opposing RED team violently dominated BLU, pushing their ranks back by miles before they even had a chance to get a head start. Sniper lost count at the amount of times the RED Spy’s been giving him hell. It was a huge shitshow, but at the end of the day, as long as Sniper gets to enjoy himself like this in solitude, he doesn’t care what the hell happens to everybody else.
…
...Save for the fact he is not alone right now.
There is an uncanny stillness in the air as both men hardly spare each other a fleeting glance. Soldier is persistently mute, which is abnormal enough by itself. He’s usually yelling every waking hour, or beating Scout half-to-death for being a sissy, or something; Sniper’s not too keen on what he’s busy with. But if he had to describe the oh-so scary and violent man of war, it honestly seems like he could be having better days.
So what? Everyone has bad days. Sniper has bad days. Soldier surely has bad days. The bushman’s not surprised, but can’t the moron at least take the damn hint and leave already? He was really looking forward to being alone out here after that circus of a battle. Now he’s just pissing him off.
As he chews his sandwich, while abjectly wondering if joining the war dog was a bad idea, the patriot himself finally — and unexpectedly — makes the first move.
“Have you ever been betrayed?”
Well, Sniper wasn’t sure what he was expecting, because every moment with Soldier is a fucking fever dream, but a question like that out of the blue takes the cake. Awkwardly the Australian turns to the American, chewing more slowly as he processes the question carefully. Soldier’s looking at him too, sort of, but his thousand yard stare remains directed at the blaze.
Yes, Sniper has been betrayed before. Too many times to count, and sometimes it was the other way around, but why should he tell the psycho any of that? Sniper just quirks a brow without saying a word. He wasn’t expecting to take a pop quiz when he arrived at this abandoned lot, much less even speaking to someone in the first place.
But Soldier’s mind seems elsewhere. “That goddamn liar betrayed me.”
Liar? Who, the Spy, or—oh.
Oh.
That’s right. The RED Demoman. Sniper remembers now. The Administrator was furious about that incident. Sniper’s heard rumors about Soldier and the Demoman having some kind of friendship, and he does agree that it was problematic. They’re on opposing teams. Any kind of mutuality caused both sides major issues, no doubt. Then one day Soldier arrived at the base with his face crimson and wearing a look that could scare a bull into submission. At his side was a brand new rocket launcher accompanied by the gunboats.
He didn’t think much of the issue then, other than Soldier being a two-faced hypocrite, but Sniper doesn’t remember asking. Or caring.
Soldier sighs gruffly. “We did a lot of things together. Talked like grannies.”
Sniper just keeps chewing.
“I have never shared memories like that with anyone in a long time.”
Luckily the soup isn’t burning. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right.
“I have no idea why I fell for his stupid hippie friendship crap.”
Wonder if it's possible to roast a sandwich over the fire...
“I am going to kill him.”
Is he still talking?
“I will kill him until he is dead for good,” Soldier snarls.
Sniper’s not a social guy. He doesn’t know how to respond to any of that, to be honest. He came up here for some time alone, yet he’s listening to this maniac ramble like they’re at some old lady’s tea party. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.
Soldier’s still unrelenting in his speech. “I will take that fancy metal stick and shove it up his drunk Scottish a—”
“Oi didn’t ask, mate.”
…
…
...Soldier shuts up at that.
A sigh of relief escapes Sniper, loud enough for the other to hear. They’re back at square one. The fire’s cozy crackling ambience entrances them as Sniper finally relishes in the long-deserved quiet. He doesn’t care enough to see if his teammate’s doing any better.
Judging by his stagnant silence, probably not.
Silence is golden.
There is nothing to be said here.