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As the sun rose over the base, Scout slipped out past the gates. Behind him followed Pyro.
It was a Sunday in September, and a new Tom Jones album had apparently been released. Scout wanted to make sure he was the proud owner of one, maybe two copies of it. Maybe he’d sell the second one for twice the price once the famous guy croaked.
Upon boasting about this at dinner last night, Pyro insisted they come along. Scout would’ve honestly preferred to go alone, but it would've been rude to tell them no.
So here the two of them were, making their way over to Teufort’s local store.
“Why’d you even wanna come with me, again?” Scout would ask, gulping down the remains of a piece of toast that he nabbed from the kitchen before he left.
“Mrrph mhrp mrrhm.” Pyro would mutter in response, their voice obscured by the gas mask they sported.
Scout would squint at them, eventually automatically figuring out what they meant, “Might want something.”
He didn’t even know why or how he could figure out what they were saying so easily.
Probably had to do with the fact that he worked with them for over three years, though.
–
A tinny bell would jingle as the two of them slinked into the store. The man at the front would give them both odd looks as Scout automatically beelined over to the record section. Pyro would slip off to conduct their own business.
Scout would rub his hands together upon reaching the intended section, settling himself by the “J” section.
–
Pyro would tighten their grip on a shopping basket, wandering through the aisles.
They’d pause, eyeing a pack of hazardous soda. In a simple motion, they’d slide the item into their basket, continuing on.
In the same aisle, they’d find another pack of drinks, this time a pack of booze, deciding to add that to the basket as well. They’d continue on, grabbing whatever would strike their interest.
A pack of cigarettes,
A loaf of bread,
A container with nuts and screws,
A pack of bandages, (quickly switched out with a medkit just to be certain),
A pair of sunglasses,
And finally to top it all off, a pack of stickers.
Pyro would happily hum, lugging their horde off to wherever Scout was.
They’d peek their head around a corner, locating the skinny mercenary. He stood in front of the record section, hands on his hips, hunched over in what looked like frustration.
Pyro would stroll over, Scout likely already hearing them thanks to the elevated breathing that their gas mask enunciated.
“Hey, Mumbles.” He’d begin. “-I looked through nearly this entire collection, right? -Nothin’. Pretty sure I looked twice.” He’d sigh. “C’mon, let’s just head out at this point. You payin’ for all that?”
Pyro would nod happily, seemingly oblivious to the skinnier one’s tribulations. Soon enough, they’d follow along as Scout directed the both of them back to the front of the store.
They’d plant their basket onto the front counter, rummaging through their pockets for their wallet.
“Is this all?” The cashier would ask, beginning to ring up the collection of items one by one.
“Mrrph hrr.” Pyro would answer, with Scout quickly translating the phrase to “uh-huh”, albeit with a fairly dejected tone.
Scout would look around for a bit, before continuing past the translation. “Hey; quick question. Did the store ever receive any copies of that uh, new Tom Jones album?” He’d ask.
“Mhm. Got a lot of copies, too. That was last week though.” The cashier would respond.
“Last week?” Scout would respond, some sort of feeling sinking in his stomach. There’s no way they sold out that quickly, he’d mentally think to himself.
“Last week.” The cashier repeated. “As far as I know, I only had as much as one singular copy left in stock, today. Somebody probably picked it up earlier and kept it with them as they finished up their morning errands.”
This would be met with Scout grumbling.
Tuning the Runner’s noises out, the cashier would finish ringing up all of the items, looking up at the two. “Anyhow, that’ll all be fifteen dollars.”
Scout would look over at the masked mercenary, only to be met with them shoving their wallet into his hands as they were already heading out the door to do who knew what.
“Frickin’,” Scout would mutter, before exhaling and turning back to the cashier.
“You said fifteen?”
–
Pyro would be quick out of the door, chasing after a raccoon they saw from the window. Upon wrangling the furry creature in their arms, they’d pause as something else caught their attention.
A man strolled down the street, carrying something square. Pyro would shift the raccoon in their hands to be carried like a sack of beans, walking over to the man as their interest was piqued.
They’d tap the man on the shoulder, eyes hyperfocused on what he carried.
Much to their surprise, though, the man would look over and promptly scream, running away from them.
Pyro would run after him, watching as the man tripped on a crack in the pavement. In a swift motion, he got up again, and ran even harder.
The mercenary would stop running after him though, noticing that he had conveniently left the square object on the ground.
“Mumbles, the hell are you-” Scout would yell from a block away, pausing as he found the target of discussion. He’d sigh, strolling over with what seemed to be a bag full of what they’d picked out earlier. “Stop runnin’ off like that.”, He’d sigh.
Pyro would be none the wiser as they bent over, picking up the object from the ground.
As Scout made his way over to Pyro, he’d look back in the bag another time, before looking back at Pyro. “-Paid for all your stuff; th’ wallet’s in the bag, and the change is in the wallet. -Is that a raccoon?” Scout would say, before simultaneously interrupting himself as he noticed said creature on Pyro’s back.
Pyro would quickly turn around, giddily nodding. They’d already start on a muffled tangent of theirs, focus shifting from the object in their hands, to the creature hanging on for dear life. They’d pause, though, upon hearing Scout gasp.
“The hell’d you get that?!” He’d exclaim, already moving to grab the object out of Pyro’s hands. “How? The cashier said these were all sold out! You didn’t rob anyone, didja?” He’d chuckle. “I don’t care, this is- this is frickin’ amazing. -You’re fine with me having this, right?”
Pyro would clap their hands together, nodding again. “Mrrhmm!” They’d respond.
“You’re a lifesaver, Mumbles.” Scout would say, patting his free hand on Pyro’s back. “Now c’mon, let’s head home- I don’t wanna deal with whoever you stole this from.”
Pyro would happily take their bag from Scout, and follow him as he led the way back to the base.
–
It took about a week or so, but Scout managed to figure out the purpose for each of the items that Pyro had bought.
It started when he was having a friendly drinking night with Demo, noticing the packs of Bonk! and booze inside the fridge.
After he put away all of his equipment after a successful round of capturing the intelligence, he’d notice Spy perched outside, smoking a new brand of cigarettes. He could only tell because the smoke didn’t smell how it usually did.
When he was in the kitchen, he saw Heavy making sandwiches with a new type of bread.
Whenever he stopped into the workshop to chat with Engie, he’d take note of the fancy new screws, in a bowl that was bound to get scuffed up over time within his area.
As he did his rounds that consisted of aimlessly walking around the base in boredom, he noticed Medic giddily sorting through the new medkit, looking like a toy compared to the stuff he usually had lying around the Medbay.
He noticed the new sunglasses fairly easily, noticing them perched on Sniper’s face as the two had their usual after-match chats.
Scout was left wondering what the stickers were for, only to grin when he noticed a few plastered on Ms. Pauling’s clipboard, and one or two stuck on Pyro’s flamethrower.
He was sure he figured everything out, only to see Soldier hauling around yet another raccoon. The mangy things all looked the same, but Scout could’ve sworn he recognized that one from the street outside the local store.
Grinning as he recalled each of the items, Scout would take another sip of the soda Pyro bought him. He’d place it on the edge of the nightstand that sat to his bed, wiping his hand on his shirt, before making the short path to the record player he owned.
He’d carefully take the vinyl record out of its respective sleeve, placing it in the player.
Upon hitting play and gently setting the needle on the record, Scout would sit back on his bed, laying down with his hands under his head.
Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to bring Pyro along next time.