"Wh—" It's a sputtering start to a reply that doesn't kick in as quickly (or as smoothly) as it should, clearly cut short in her train of thought. "—Uh."

Uh. Good one, Sombra.

"York?" The 'r' rolls a little harder than she intends for it to, as if the name's been run over by her accent— and followed by the brief idea that this might not be the name he actually aims to go by: first York, then Taylor, but to the public, Locksmith and it's possible it all means absolutely nothing to Lena. Lena, who apparently pays attention to local tabloids or gossip or...

"It's not like that. Créeme."