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Perhaps this is his fault.
He tilts his head, rivulets of blood dripping from his chin onto his shirt. He would be upset if it wasn’t already wrinkled and stained from the day’s activities.
Spy looks up at his son, who remains firmly planted in front of him, snarling with a ferocity he definitely inherited from his mother. Scout’s hands are balled into tight fists, though Spy doesn’t miss the tremor in his hands, or the flicker of remorse that crosses his face.
Correction. This is entirely his fault.
Spy’s not sure how he never saw it before. It’s his /job/ to notice things like this, and yet, he was painfully oblivious to Scout’s emotional state until now.
It’s his failure, both as a spy and as a /father/ that permitted this to progress so poorly. Even the slightest shred of watchfulness would’ve allowed Spy to intercept Scout before he could lash out at him. It’s his failure.
/Again, not good enough./ Chimes a singsong voice in the back of his mind. It’s the same taunting voice that has marked every last shortcoming in his life. It was the voice of his mother, before the war had ensured he would never see her (or his childhood home) in one piece again.
He grimaces, his undoubtedly broken nose sending a dull throbbing pain through his skull. He’s not particularly concerned about any possible long term damage, because he knows at some level, in the void where his heart is supposed to be, that he deserves this.
That, and he knows that Medic can easily fix this. Even if it does mean suffering through a lecture on how to better take care of himself.
Spy blinks numbly, forcing himself to focus on Scout despite the LED lights glaring down at him.
Scout seems unamused. Maybe he expected Spy to have something witty or creative to say, to vindicate the rage in Scout’s heart. Maybe he didn’t expect Spy to go down that easily. Or maybe he’s just disappointed in him.
He wouldn’t be the first.
Scout scoffs, leering over Spy. He grabs Spy’s tie in his fist and pulls until Spy is dragged to his feet. Spy staggers, but otherwise doesn’t react, already appearing dazed and /almost/ remorseful.
“Two-faced bastard.” Scout spits, though the venom quickly seeps out of his tone with how /pathetic/ Spy looks. Despite Scout only hitting him once, Spy looks as if he’d already had his spirits completely and utterly crushed. It’s almost.. concerning. Even to Scout. Not that he cares about the asshole or anything.
Spy manages to hold eye contact, even if he has to guess which set of eyes he’s supposed to be looking at. He grins. His teeth are stained with his own blood.
“That’s what I’m known for.”