The look given the BLU was roughly the nonverbal equivalent of<em>might you be speaking to <span class="bbc_u">me</span>?</em>RED's best spy (in his opinion, anyway, and that was the only one that counted) had been on his way to retrieve the intelligence after that lumbering oaf of a soldier had cleared out the BLU's last lines of defense. And judging by the smoldering carnage before him, he'd managed to actually not screw it up. He hadn't even had to draw his knife thus far.<br/><br/>Until a little BLU engineer came stumbling to a halt in his path. "Oui, I do suppose eet ees razher nice." The knife was pulled smoothly from the confines of his perfectly pressed three piece suit. And with a lack of transition that would have made Shakespeare weep, he was in the engineer's personal space, blade flipped open as he pushed him toward the wall. "Where deed you come from, engineer?"