[A mercenary, then. Kaz doesn't say those words exactly, but there's only so many things an "independent" soldier can be. Medic knows this for a fact. He is, of course, in the same boat himself. They have something in common. The missing limbs make more sense now, as do the strange cataracts Medic catches sight of (heh) out of the corner of his eye, a sliver of milky glass that stand out against the shadows cast from the man's sunglasses.

Interesting. He could learn a lot from this man's broken body.]

That's tacky. [Well it is!] And if that's the case, they're in for a long wait! I don't ask for help even in the best of times, nor do I need it. I'm the one they should be asking for help.

[It's pretty much his job. And no lie, he's pretty damn good at it. In response to the question being asked of him, Medic hums thoughtfully.]

It's a rather long story. I suppose the simplest answer would be that I, like you, work for myself. My current team is in a bit of a...eheh, what you'd call flux.

[Because Medic killed them. Well, the most important one.

...Okay, so Heavy killed him. But he helped out! Doubtful anyone would've gotten that far without his well-timed help.]