There was a pause before Sniper answered, and in the silence, he caught himself watching Pyro again, his glasses helping hide the fact that he was staring. He had soft features for a lad, Sniper thought as his eyes traced the scars that framed Pyro's face, following along his fingers and around his chin. He wondered if those scars had been the result of an accident, or put there on purpose.

Scars told stories -- each of his own did, after all. Some were marks of victory, while others told tales of defeat. He wasn't proud of the ones on his back in the least, as all they said was that he'd been bested by too many Spies in his time with RED.

He felt his gut turn uncomfortably, and he licked the dryness from his lips as he cast his eyes away again. Why had he been staring? That wasn't proper, and he knew better. "I don't care if it's got a point," he replied finally, "so long as we're gettin' paid. S'just a job."