swiss-sniper requires assistance.

It had been a hard week, overall.

RED had come out victorious in their matches, but it wasn’t without an extraneous amount of work. Even with her efforts, some of her teammates didn’t leave her medical ward for hours as she tended to the wounds that hadn’t properly mended through Respawn. With so many operations, and the lengthy amount of time dedicated to them, it was impressive in its own right that she still managed to stay on her feet on the field.

Tomorrow would likely be no different - she knew BLU could almost smell the fatigue, and be more than happy to put RED through their rounds. Subconsciously, Eliza rolled a shoulder and winced at the effort. It seemed that BLU had another Sniper shipped in, though whether or not he was permanent remained to be seen, and he’d done well to make sure she didn’t get far. Each of her teammates that she’d tried to keep latched onto, he’d gotten a bullet through their head. Even managed to get her a few times in the process.

It was unpleasant, but she supposed it was inevitable. It was with that thought that Eliza strolled the platforms around Nucleus, in an effort to clear her head and get some fresh air.


Vhat am I, your dance monkey?

Regardless, Herr Reininger, zhere is somezhink I’ve done in vhich you might find entertainment.

I don’t know if you ah familiar vis’ zhe ‘Naja haje’; more commonly known as zhe Egyptian Cobra. Lovely creature zhat it is, it is very..unpleasant.. to get bitten by it. Both its venom is bos’ neuro- and cytotoxic, and vill most certainly ruin your day.

As it so happens, I recently haff come to possess a vonderful specimen of zhis snake, but sadly haff.. ahem..misplacedher.

In somevahn’s clothes bureau.


Oh this is the most splendid thing to have happened all day long! I suppose I should call Yseult over then. She  LOVES dealing with noxious creatures, plants and the likes. In fact, she’s a poisons collector. I’m sure she’ll give me quite a gift in return for such a fine specimen. 

If of course what you are saying is true, Herr Sniper. 

However i wouldn’t want to be the one facing my sister if you lie. I assume she will be very very much disappointed.

But I digress, she will probably want to thank you first hand if indeed such a snake is making its way in my quarters.

Still, I am not entertained and therefore you are doing a poor job at being the, what is it they call you? I hear you have quite the silver tongue.  

It was a rather boring day to this little man- him having finished all needed work for the day. And so- he was rather bored- his office cleaned and very organized- everything delivered. He was out of work for once. So during this bored time he would do what any bored man would do- well more like what any bored little dorkish man would do.

He stood in front of the Player Piano in the rec room closest to his office. This old Piano something he loved all too much. Fiddling with the roll of paper he placed it into the piano and set it up- making it begin to play. As soon as it did the song Lovers Waltz began to play on it.

This man- being very skilled in the Waltz of course couldn’t resist the wonderful beat of the song- especially with it sounding so wonderful on the old piano. Getting into position- as soon as the music started he began to waltz around the room, a bright happy smile on his face. He hopped about with some graceful steps to match the music. His enjoyment of the music being too much for him to notice anything else in the room except for the notes itself.

Test of Wills

quick-step: * Grinning as her flirtatious bluff is called, Sophie is unable to stop from hooking the collar of that striking black turtleneck, tugging gently, seeing just how far one could press.* oh I didn’t realize you were amiable enough to give a demonstration of that razor sharp tongue you’re so keen on using, *purring in a voice as sweet as honey the white strands if hair were tugged lightly, ever as always a tease*. Beguiled however.. might be pushing that a little far.


“Ow. You wound me vis your preconcieved notions.” He craned his neck back slightly as the collar of his shirt was toyed at in frivol. He watched carefully, adopting an equally—but still undeniably sharp—affectionate tone of his own, letting his own hand graze the medic’s resting so near to his throat, “I can be more amiable zhan you vill ever know, mein schatz.” It was a game of limits—of who would buckle before the other’s empty flirtation. Though boastful and teasing though it was, the sniper was not at all one for physical closeness. And it showed. But he’d be damned to be the first to falter completely in this percieved show of bravado.

“Really now? Look at you; vis zhe vay you have your hands on me?” Eyes lowered, smirking some, hyper-aware and inwardly displeased with Sophie’s tightening coil on his faded locks, “Could have had me fooled.” Just how far were they each willing to take this, he wondered.


"Wound you? Surely I have done no such thing, you are neither bleeding nor dying so we can assume that my ‘cutting’ words have little affect on you… poor man". And so THERE was the little tell to the Snipers dialogue, something said beyond the use of words with the movement of his eyes, the rise of that narrow angular head. For the inches Amsel retreated, Sophie advanced, closing what little distance was left between them yet not close enough to touch. Oh no, certainly not close enough to touch.

"Beguiled… is far too strong a word..  I prefer… charmed…" Blinking in a slow lazy fashion  Sophie abandoned that fascinating shock of hair in favor of exploring in a languid trailing finger down over one of those well defined ears. How amusing this test of wills was becoming - and to be sure it most certainly was a test - neither one relenting even the smallest breath lest any advantage be lost. Sophie had surely not intended for her ‘advances’ to be anything more than a mild tease, but when push came to shove… well… Sophie would obliging shove right back. After all, Amsel was certainly not the only one who enjoyed ‘pressing’ buttons.

Sophie surely possessed a clear set of boundaries… but to hell if she was going to tell the cocky Sniper exactly where they sat.

"Do not tell me you don’t enjoy the attention herr… If I make you uncomfortable all you need do is say so…" matching him smirk for smirk, she wondered if he would concede.

dormatorymoss said:

Amsel is in a near mad-dash to find a tape recorder after getting over the initial surprise of hearing his own name uttered with apparent debauchery, from Eliza of all people. He's repressing a fit of malicious giggling. This opportunity for blackmail being far too good to pass up.

(( the fit of giggles is unrelenting omg xD ))

Eliza tossed and turned in her sleep, her breathing shielding her ears from any soft rustling that might have resulted in the German sniper’s search. A heavy inhale and scrunching of sheets, and a whisper came this time. If Eliza were unlucky enough, and Amsel were diligent in his search, he might have found the miniature recording device she kept for audio notes of her work.

- [swiss-sniper]


Amsel wasn’t a social butterfly, and having been approached—by a soldier with a cooking vessel planted on his noggin, no less—wasn’t putting him in an exactly.. pleasant mood. But he kept as pleasant as he possibly could. 

Until, of course, the comment concerning his stature was brought up.   Ha. Like the spindly sniper hadn’t heard that—or one of the many variations of—a thousand times before. Why, yes! He was a stick-bug! Or was he more like a tooth-pick? A bean-pole?

Oh, how droll. A mild flare of a sneer caused a twitch at his cheek and the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sensitive about it by any means, it was just a simple—well, great—annoyance to have it pointed out on a near daily basis. Bitter sarcasm it was, then.

“Likely. I don’t make it a point to idly chatter vis anyvone on base,” The sniper returned, with slight hostility, the glance over he’d received, “Especially not vis zhose who are so loose in zhe head to don a pot as a hat. Vhat? Haff you taken so many blows to zhe head your brain is nozhink short of soup?”

Murdoc crossed his arms whilst peering down at the Sniper, the cast shadow from his pot doing well to shield his eyes. He could feel the bitter mood in the other’s words, but he did always did and ignored it. “Well, that ain’t no way t’be…” The Soldier frowned. “Ain’t a bad thing t’talk ever once in a while, aye?” He was never one for conflict. He found it a weary and tiring thing to hassle with, and replying or responding in a hostile way, he found, made way for more problems. He tried his best to be a cheerful spirit, seeing how the industries always had a way of bringing around hard characters. Having his own share of bitter moments, he wanted no association or dealings of that sort. 

However, comments on his pot were always touchy for him… …

"Aye, buddy, that ain’t nice - insultin’ my pot like that." Murdoc grunted. "What if I have taken too many blows t’my head? S’not gonna change the fact that I’ve got a pot on my head, so how ‘bout we leave it at that, aye?" 

“‘nough ‘bout my pot… How say we start over, aye?” From under the lid of said pot, he raised a brow in hopes that the man’s mood would lighten. “The name’s Murdoc,” he said, extending a hand. 

dormatorymoss said:

"Hi." [they've only just met in brief but why not?]

1. First impression: Skinny bloke. Not sure what to think about him. He’s slightly awkward.

2. Truth is: My opinion is thus far unchanged.

3. How old do you look: Middle-aged, I’ll guess, though that’s probably pushing it. 

4. Have you ever made me laugh: No.

5. Have you ever made me mad: No.

6. Best feature: I’m not sure yet.

8. You’re my: acquaintance  I hardly know you. Can’t peg you as a friend or enemy.

9. Name in my phone: (If he had a phone): Amsel

"Beguiled however.. might be pushing that a little far."
“Really now? Look at you; vis zhe vay you have your hands on me?” His eyes were lowered, smirking some.
“Beguiled… is far too strong a word..  I prefer… charmed…” Blinking in a slow lazy fashion  Sophie abandoned that fascinating shock of hair in favor of exploring in a languid trailing finger down over one of those well defined ears.
“Too strong? Perhaps. But I thought it would be suiting.. given zhat subtleties are somewhat.. lacking?”

dormatorymoss said:

If Amsel stumbled upon Murdoc passed out in his bed, he'd handle the situation surprisingly well. Meaning, he'd start flinging the dead mice he feeds his snakes at the sleeping soldier until he awoke; covered in thawing, deceased rodents. Lovely.

// This is by far my favorite reaction.

The Soldier hadn’t showered before passing out on whomever’s bed he had stumbled upon, nor did he bother to pull the covers over him. He wreaked of alcohol, blood and gunpowder, and the room was fairly chilly, so the first hour of an unpleasant smell and selective cold-spots weren’t much of a bother. It was only until the cringing stench of dead caracas and cold soaked bits of  his clothes bitterly sobered him enough to open his eyes and inspect. It was a moment of utter confusion as he woke face to face with a dead mouse. He quickly scoped out the rest of the area in a frantic haze before realizing he was covered in dead mice. Out of sheer shock, Murdoc threw himself from the bed and onto the floor with a hard thud. He could have sworn his heart broke a rib from the shock. Only when his heart stopped convulsing rabidly did he look up to see the Sniper holding a bag in one hand, and a familiar object that littered the bed (and now floor) in the other… …