“HUT. HUT. HUT.” He’s doing his daily paces around the outside of the base.

“HELLO, TAVISH!” He redirects his paces towards the (supposed) Demoman.

(( haven’t these two been through enough already 😪

“UH.. OKAY!” And he plops right down, sitting with his legs criss crossed on the ground. This poor man believes this is the real Demo-

“You’re.. you’re sure, Tavish..?” Even behind the helmet, it was obvious by the sniffles he was hurt. Very hurt.

Too late. He’s already running off, holding his helmet down over his head.

C r y i n g. Was the only thing that was heard in his room, boy this hit him VERY hard.

A sniffle. “Uh- wh- WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“UH.. uh.. YES.”

“..I DO NOT-“ Sniffle. “NEED YOUR HELP, FRENCHIE..”

“..Fine.” “THE.. The door is unlocked.”

“TAVISH.. Tavish said he did not want to date anymore.” His helmet was thrown across the room so hard it had a visible crack in it, and he was in complete tears.

“..NO! YOU CROUTON!” A solid punch in the face for the Frenchie was delivered.

“YAAAAY!” “WAIT.. BOOO! AM I CHEERING OR YAY-ING HERE?” Oh this poor man.

“I WILL SAY YAAAAAAAY AND PRETEND IT MAKES SENSE! YAAAAAAAY!”

“SCREAMIN EAGLES!!!” “I WILL DESTROY YOUR WORLD! YOU WILL NOT HARM MINE!” Screaming into the wall.

“YAAAY! Wait.. NOOOO!!!”

“YES, ME! BUT YOU ARE ME! AM I YOU?”

“..I BET YOU AREN’T EVEN FROM AMERICA, MAGGOT!” Angry arm crossing.

“HELP I NEED MORE BREAD TO TELEPORT SO I CAN MAKE A BREAD MONSTER LIKE THE RED VERSION OF ME!”