The Demoman was..a drunkard. To say the least.

The RED team had gone on a small break. Only a week or two. Tavish had spent most of the time sober, surprisingly. He was an absolute sweetheart when he was sober, the kindest man you’d ever met.

One night, you walked into the local bar, just to have a drink. Medic had been talking about Oktoberfest for a while now, it must’ve been approaching.

That was when you saw him.

Slouched over at a table, scrumpy clutched in hand, head rested on the wood of the table, Demo was not having a great time. He was mumbling drunkenly under his breath, looking as if he’d fall asleep or pass out at any moment. It looked as if tears had streamed down the side of his face from the vertical tear-streaks. Poor guy.