TF2 spy

Spy stood in front of the mirror, a cigarette between his lips and a scowl on his face. He was standing shirtless, looking at his belly. Particularly how soft it was. It didn’t really make sense to him. I mean, he was an absent father, so how is it that he was getting a dad bod? Perhaps it was all the wine. Yes, yes, perhaps. But not likely. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that Spy, the handsome ladykiller, had a little bit of belly pudge. No! He was supposed to be the handsome one! Surely, surely no one would want him now that his belly is no longer lean and flat. He observed his muffin top a bit more before the door suddenly opened, Krig’s face poking in, much to the Frenchman’s alarm. (DOND USE THE VOICE OR I BACK STAB YOU AT NIGHT)