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No. 429
Something was wrong with Scout.
The entire team felt it. Things were a lot quieter, for one, probably because it was Scout’s job to piss everyone off and get them all riled up into shouting matches and things. With no irritated young baseball player to slap at, tease, yell at, or punch, the team felt sort of listless and extremely uncomfortable. That’s just how ingrained Scout’s noisy presence was within the base.
Spy was especially bothered by it, and was bothered by the fact that he was bothered by it. By all accounts, he should’ve been happy the brat had finally quieted down and left the base in peace, but the silence within the base was unsettling, and while Spy was accustomed to roaming empty corridors in the enemy’s base, when that same quiet settled within his own halls, it just felt strange.
It went against his austere code of discipline and it certainly was uncharacteristic of a man who was paid to be detached and aloof in all things, but he decided to visit Scout anyway. It wasn’t particularly evident to the other members of the team (because he was good at his job of being discreet), but Spy felt close enough to Scout to merit a visit, just to see how he was doing. The sort of thing “normal people” often did for loved ones.
When Spy got to Scout’s room, all he could hear was silence. He slowly crept in and saw Scout lying in bed, seemingly catatonic. This was even more unsettling than, say, if the boy was bawling his eyes out into his pillow or screaming some unnamable blasphemy to the high heavens because in the case of either, at least he’d be doing /something/. Despite his many trips to the Orsay and Pompidou in his life, Spy had never quite seen something as surrealistic as Scout standing still for such an extended period of time.
He walked over to Scout’s bed and cautiously sat down, now quite unnerved at Scout unresponsiveness. It was only when he spoke that Scout finally responded.
“What’s wrong, ‘tit?”
After a pause, Scout rolled over so that his back was facing Spy and sighed. Frowning, Spy laid a cautious hand on Scout’s arm.
“Scout?”
And Scout finally sat up and looked Spy in the face. Spy had thought Scout standing still was strange; he didn’t even know what to think over the expression on Scout’s face. Hell, he didn’t even know Scout was capable of making such an expression. The idea that Scout might actually be an enemy Spy in disguise quickly darted through Spy’s brain being replaced by a feeling of terrible unease.
Scout was sad. That was all there was to it. It was remarkably easy to describe, but the fact that it was /Scout/ made it strange. On most days, it seemed like the boy had the limited emotional range of happy, obnoxious, and angry. The fact that he could be genuinely sad seemed unthinkable. And yet here he was with the face that proved it.
It was not a good feeling, looking into that face.
“Spy, I…”
Scout stopped himself, biting his lip as he seemed to reevaluate his next course of action. He closed his eyes and sighed quietly.
“’Tit?”
Suddenly, as if some spell had been broken, Scout cracked into a grin and laughed weakly. Like a broken watch ticking again, his movements seemed to flow back into his body and he seemed to return to his jumpy, active self again. He lightly punched Spy in the shoulder and laughed.
“Had ya goin’ there, huh? Pretty good, right? Heh, you actually sounded pretty worried there, man…”
Scout continued to giggle to himself as Spy looked back at him with a stonily.
“If there is something wrong, Scout, say it. Do not pretend nothing is wrong.”
“What, man? I was just kidding. Must be ‘cuz I’m a great actor or s-something.”
The slight tremor in Scout’s voice did not go unnoticed.
“…Scout.”
“Hahaha, you’re always so serious. It’s funny, man, real funny. Should’ve seen the look on your face and…”
The faltering smile that Scout was so determinedly trying to hold up did not go unnoticed either.
“B-Bet I had the whole team freaked out and stuff, hahaha… hah…”
The tear that managed to squeezed out of the corner of Scout’s eye was as plain as day.
“I… I just…”
And Spy caught the falling vase just as it was about to his the floor and shatter. Frowning, he deftly looped an arm over Scout’s shoulder and pulled the boy into tight, secure embrace. There really was no reason for Scout to put up some sort of sad, flimsy façade to try to fool him into thinking he was okay. The team teased the boy for always being hyper and loud, but that didn’t mean he was expected to always like that. Everyone had emotions of every shape and color, and no one knew that better than a man who suppressed them daily as a job. Because his profession demanded it, Spy had become quite intimate with the workings of human emotions. Understanding them was the best way to deal with them and eventually hide them, after all and he was at a point where he could observe emotions almost scientifically. That did not mean that he couldn’t empathize with them.
Spy felt tears soaking into his suit, but there were no sobs. It seemed that Scout expressed sorrow quietly; so different from his loud, raucous shouts of exuberance or satisfaction.
Scout hugged back, grip tightening as the tears flowed more freely. Spy rubbed his back, whispering something low in French. Scout had no idea what he was saying, but felt comforted by the words anyway. They were quiet and sweet and meant nothing to him, but sounded pleasant. He let the warmth, the words, and homey feel of Spy rubbing his back engulf him like a secure little place where he could stay and cry indefinitely.
Scout eventually fell asleep, and Spy tucked him in, feeling somewhat satisfied at being able to be a source of comfort for the boy. As he headed out, he noticed a letter on a table, but decided against reading it. That, he figured, was a kind of intel best left to the original owner.
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