Medic hated when his teammates came to him in his off hours. He was a busy man; he couldn't always set aside time to help them with their broken bones and bleeding wounds. Even worse was when they came to talk to him about feelings, as if he were some quack psychiatrist. Today, it was Pyro's turn.

"And every day I go out there, it's the same. Every day I see their faces, and it's the same ones, the same people. It's starting to unnerve me," Pyro was saying, oblivious to the fact that Medic had no desire to talk. Medic was busy fiddling with some vials filled with experimental Ubercharge fluids, but he wasn't doing anything with them. The medigun was what he really wanted to tinker with, but he'd have to face Pyro to get to it, and that would mean signaling that he wanted to talk.

"I know you don't really like giving advice, but you're the only one here who really knows anything that might be helpful. Your door was unlocked, so I figured you wouldn't mind if I came in just for a few minutes." Medic made a mental note to have Dell examine at the lock. He sighed. Pyro wasn't going to take the hint, it seemed.

"Look. I am am a busy man, and I am trying to get stuff done. I will help you in work hours with wounds and burns," he said, finally turning towards the Pyro and striding past him to the medigun sitting on the table behind him. "Not your worries. If you're getting sad, think happy thoughts. I don't know, flowers and sunshine. Leave me alone."

Pyro was silent for a few seconds, then: "Alright, doc." Medic heard the sound of the gas mask being slipped over Pyro's head. "I'll give it a shot."

Medic never saw Pyro without the mask again.