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'SCOUT! THERE YOU ARE! YOU DUMMY, I HAVE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU!' Medic power ran across the snow, his wide smile like a mini beacon, arms already drawn open for an unrequested embrace. Behind him lugged Demoman at an uneven pace, one hand holding a steaming mug of liquid while the other was ringed around it, as if he was using some kind of PSI power to keep the liquid inside the cup; his face was of screwed up concentration as he tried to keep in pace with the German. Scout inwardly cringed as he watched the pair head his way with a burning intention and determination (more so from medic), and he wished that he'd spent just five more minutes camping out in his snug, quiet, alone little corner. 'Uh, doc, seriously, I'm fi-' His words were cut off as Medic scooped him up into his arms with scary ease, crushing his entire being close to his thoroughly wrapped up chest of shirts and scarves. Scout could practically feel the heat and happiness radiate off the man that sunk into his core, and he wasn't sure whether it was that notion or the mans general tightness that was making him feel light headed. Finally, Demo caught up to them, a soft pant in his breath as he held the steaming mug up with pride. 'Ah, I asked here Demoman to prepare a hot chocolate for you!' Medic said, muffled to Scout, and he found that the ground had begun to sway. How incredibly motherly. He despised it. And to ask Demoman to make him a drink - what, did Medic think he couldn't make his own stuff now? 'Aye!' Demoman piped up once he'd regained his breath, his eye lighting up as Scout peeked him a distracted look. 'Just the way you like it - a touch of cinnamon, with a heaping douse of cream, and some marshmallows, just for that homely feel! Should still be on the scalding side too, I reckon. Nothing too fancy, mind.' Scout could feel Medic's chuckle, and he gripped at his medi-pack (why was he still wearing that in off hours), trying to say the words that were being squeezed off his tongue. As warm and (begrudgingly) nice as the hug was, he still needed to breathe. 'Me-Medic, I-I need, air,' 'Oi lad, I think you're squeezing the life outta the kid.' 'Woops, my apologizes!' Finally, Scout was set down, and he heaved a breath of air, coughing only slightly. 'I am just glad to see you, is all!' 'M-Medic, we saw each other literally half an hour ago.' 'Yes, well, I like to see that all of my friends are healthy and well on a daily basis!' 'Believe me, lad, he means it.' Scout's face was a perfect picture of a grumpy pug dog, which got both the merc's to grin. 'Well, bottoms up!' Demoman handed the runner the mug, who took it carefully from his hands, blowing the steam away and mutely nodding his thanks. 'But really, Scout, you should wrap up more in these temperatures. You could catch pneumonia, or frost bite, or something far worse that is beyond the medi-guns abilities! I have some spare clothes that you can borrow if you wish, my friend! It would be no trouble - even Soldier is borrowing some! It really isn't any trouble at all!' Then Medic turned serious in the eyes, looking at Scout intensely. A mitten gloved hand landed on Scout's shoulder, and the runner looked up at him, brows raised. 'I do not want to see you suffering, comrade.' They had only been working together for three months, yet Medic was speaking and acting like he'd known him beyond being his patient for six years and over. It wasn't just his medical profession talking, it was a deep set concern, a genuine expression of caring, and it threw Scout so far off the ball it wasn't even funny. Even Demoman was giving him a look of worry, and he wasn't used to the attention nor that kind of emotion being aimed at him, especially from two people at once. He tapped the sides of the mug when neither said anything more, his legs jittery and unsure. He wanted to run away, but that would be rude, and would only lead to more talks from the pair later. He'd need words to escape from the over exposure of friendliness. '... A-alright, yeah, I got it, t-thanks, I'll uh, I'll get back to you on that, yeah, deffo, hey thanks for the chocolate and everythin', yeah, I uh, gotta go, over there,' Scout jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to nowhere, hesitantly taking a few steps back, though he kept his gaze locked on Medic in case he tried any touchy business again. He didn't miss Demoman's knowing look, nor Medic's blatant joy as he awkwardly knocked his hands together, being mindful of his beverage. 'Again, thanks but I uh, gotta go and, do somethin'. Important. Something important. Over there. Yeah.' 'Take care, Scout! Remember to wrap up well for tomorrow's battle!' 'Enjoy your drink!' Scout was off like a whippet, making sure he didn't spill a drop. By the time he'd reached somewhere that was hidden away from the pair, his entire face was a bright red, and it wasn't from the bitter cold. What a strange, bound together team.