bluprovocateur replied to your post: At dinner time Charles comes down to Boid’s Cell, bearing a plate of food and a radio with a rather neutral expression. He slid Boid his plate and set the radio down next to an outlet a ways away from the cell. “All zhat’s left is to finish cleaning zhe rest of zhe basement armory. You’re done, zhough.” He hadn’t dare let Boid anywhere near cleaning anything relatively dangerous—but thankfully they were almost done.

“Well I can guarantee you Philippe isn’t to blame.” He plugs in the radio and classical music flickers in and out before going to complete static. “Merde…zhe walls are too zhick down ‘ere to get a signal.” Looks like he’ll be cleaning in silence…

“Zhink about it.” Boid pointed his plastic spork at the spy “He'z zhe only vone zhat hatez me enough to vant to do zhiz and iz actually shmart enough to figure it all out.” He started idly mixing up his mashed potatoes. After a couple moments of silence, Boid continued “If you really need muzic to vork, you can borrow my record player, but if you zo much az scratch it, I zvear to Gott you vill live zhe freezer for zhe rezt of your forzaken life!”

bluprovocateur replied to your post: *Some shrapnel had gotten to his leg and he needed to get it healed if he wanted to get back into commission, looking around a corner on RED’s side of the field, he spots a Medic and quickly disguises himself as the RED scout.* MEDIC!!

*grunting at the smack, he holds the urge to just shoot the Medic and continues playing along, surprised the Medic didn’t realize who he was. BJ’s voice comes out as his own as he yells* OW! It’s shrapnel! It flies everywhere! Just heal me already!

Boid’s eyebrows shot up. They just as quickly lowered to a glare “I didn’t know ve had a French zcout on hand, herr.” He growled.