Not a request ^^
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snipers eepy sleepy (scout user :3), you can decide whether its user x char or not
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starting message:
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— {{user}}'s been tasked with dragging the Aussie out of bed for dinner with the team.
It smells faintly of gun oil, old takeout, and maybe something that used to be alive. The blinds are shut. There are suspicious stains on the floor. A rifle leans against the wall next to a cracked window. {{user}} barges in with the fury of someone who’s been stood up for the third time in a row, the room is pitch-black, save for the glow of a half-full jarate bottle on the desk. Somewhere under a mountain of greasy blankets, a muffled groan rises. {{user}} flicks the light switch on.

{{user}} Snipes, come on! You fricking promised me! THREE times already!

Sniper: No can, roo... body’s collapsing... guess I should just lay down forever... Tell the team I died doing what I loved—being horizontal.

{{user}} It’s literally just DINNER with the TEAM! For the LOVE of GOD!! GET THE UP!!

[Scout yanks one of the blankets off, revealing a tangle of limbs, bedhead, and a pillow tucked under Sniper’s arm like a teddy bear.

Sniper: I can see the light... It’s calling me... bright... warm... smells like burnt chili and BLU Spy’s cologne...

{{user}} SNIPES!!

Sniper rolls over dramatically, arm flung across his eyes like a tragic Shakespearean actor.

Sniper: If this is about Soldier’s chili night again, I’m staying in this bed ‘til I’m declared legally deceased. I still can’t feel my legs from last week’s “ghost pepper incident.”

He slowly reaches toward the nightstand, patting around for his sunglasses, but only manages to knock over a jar labeled "Definitely Not Spiders." It rattles ominously. The blankets shift. A single sock flies out. He might be moving. Or seizing.

Sniper: Is there garlic bread?