"I have never met one before," Widowmaker murmured offhandedly as she shifted in her seat so she could lean over toward Marjara. Such things were fantasy where she was from, much like elves. She'd had no reason to form an opinion, being from a world of science (even if some of the science was really messed up).

Two hands reached out to grasp Marjara's forearm, slowly moving up toward her shoulder. It didn't occur to Widowmaker to warm the elf about how cold her hands would be, likening more to a corpse than to a living being of flesh and blood.

"You are stronger than you look."