¿Mmm qué dices?

[vata]

Who| Sombra, Widowmaker, and a spooky, spooky ghost
What| sometimes you assume your best friend has no heart, and then you're wrong, so you have to apologize....sort of
Where| Talon Beach House™
When| post movie-night
Warnings/Notes|NA

She didn't know.

Or maybe she did— maybe she'd always suspected that Widowmaker carried more of Amélie Lacroix under her skin than she ever let on— picking at healed scars with curiosity in her every movement, eager to see if they'd bleed again. Sometimes even Sombra can't tell where her hunger for knowledge ends and the rest of her begins. She was shaped by it, lived by it, survived because of it...and nearly lost her neck for it, too.

Like Gabriel's starved hatred and Amélie's crippling programming, the truth of it is, she's as fragmented as the rest of them.

But she's also decidedly more grounded. Less scarred for her flaws, and she can tell when she's crossed the line as far as her partners are concerned: that the vulnerability and emotion she'd somehow stirred needs appeasing. They're not enemies, after all.

So Sombra turns up a little later, after having said goodnight to Lena and triple checking her defenses, slipping in through the back entrance with a small gift in hand from the Legion World cafeteria— boxed and wrapped with a holographic sticker of the Eiffel Tower. She'd have gone for ballet slippers but it seemed a little offensive considering the circumstances, and they don't make sniper rifle stickers, apparently.

What a waste.

"Ya llegué~." Called out as she toes the door shut behind her, listening in for any telltale signs of life as she makes her way through narrow halls towards the common room.

Comments

[vata]

"Mm." She grunts, dully accepting the last portion of her penance— if only because it's a one-time deal, made for the sake of the team.

So, reaching into the pocket of her coat while Amélie's back is turned, Sombra tugs out one last little pear candy droplet, popping it into her mouth on the way out the door towards her own section of the safehouse, passing through Gabe's territory along the way. All things considered, it shouldn't take long: fifteen, twenty minutes tops if she decides not to rush.

A little time to relax after all that forced saccharine sweetness.

[araignee_du_soir]

Amélie glanced over to watch Sombra head off, glad that there wasn't going to be any further debate about it. She would have accepted a change of clothing, but if Sombra is going to shower? All the better.

Turning back to her wall, that fitbit was going to get tacked onto it like the trophy it definitely was. Maybe she'll be able to add more things to her wall as time went by. It wouldn't take Sombra long to return, so clearing the ammunition off her bed was going to be priority, loose hair hanging about her like a cloud.

[fantasmaniac]

He almost seems to deflate at the shoulders, like he can't believe how stupid she was (not that he thought so, but it was comical enough to seem so). But in all honesty, he doesn't fully know the extent of her brainwashing either. Where does her emotional threshold start and end? Only Widowmaker knows.

"Neural conditioning is still more an art than a science, it seems."

If she is truly miffed at a remark made by Sombra, he can only assume Sombra said something very insensitive and scathing on purpose (doubtful) or it was just so flippant in itself to be insulting.

"What's in the box?"

Part curiosity, part checking-to-see-if-it's-tactful.

[fantasmaniac]

After Sombra passes by his room, Reaper creeps into the common area in a slow and lazy roll of black cloud, like he'd just been meaning to casually pass through.

"Milking this for all it's worth?"

Referring to getting Sombra to brush her hair. Now that's just unnecessary, but it's still amusing to see Widowmaker boss Sombra around. Aside from whatever gifts Sombra had presented to her (from what he can see: that colorful box earlier, and something that looks like a digital watch sporting a color scheme that he knows neither woman would appreciate.

He almost sighs in disbelief. This is just going to bring about more trouble, in his opinion, but he's not their dad. They can do whatever the hell they want as long as they take the proper precautions in not getting their secrets found out.

[araignee_du_soir]

Amélie glanced over at Reaper as he drew near. "She owes me this," was the reply. "It is simple penance, non?" Besides, she was of the belief that Sombra enjoyed brushing her hair even if she wouldn't admit it.

"Better than what I could demand."

[vata]

She lifts the little box up, carefully sliding one nail beneath the sticker keeping it closed to peel it upwards so that he can see the confection for himself, attentive enough— even as she asks a beat later, mildly:

"Does it bother you?"

The reconditioning. The process of pouring out what Amélie LaCroix had been into what she is now.

[fantasmaniac]

He doesn't make a show of looking into the box, the mask barely tilting down before he's looking away again to mull over the question.

"No."

It might be too callous to admit that her brainwashed state makes her easier to work beside, but aside from it sounding uncomfortable, it wasn't necessarily true, either. Talon also has their own agenda, just like he has his own, and who knows what other orders Widowmaker may have?

"But sometimes... hm."

[vata]

Her eyes, half-lidded from glancing downwards at the intricately designed cupcake in its box (starting to reseal the lid again once he's clearly noticed it) flick upwards with razor-sharp clarity: a predatory sort of hunger at that glimpse beneath his figurative skin.

But otherwise it's all casual. Relaxed. They might as well be chatting about the weather.

"Does it remind you of what you used to be?"

[fantasmaniac]

He could've segued into the point of this conversation with something a little subtler, but he never really did enjoy beating around the bush if it weren't particularly necessary.

"What did she say?"

[araignee_du_soir]

"Nothing worth repeating," came the easy reply.

Amélie certainly didn't want to give voice to the series of texts that lead to Sombra crossing the line. It was over now and the little hacker had made up for it. Once her hair was brushed - an indulgence Amélie rarely got to take advantage of - this would be laid to rest.

And hopefully never to rise again.

[fantasmaniac]

It could've been a scathing glare, or a solemn thoughtful one. Hard to say when he barely glances over at her, not saying anything but keeping the mask's hollow stare trained on her.

He can already see how she got to Widowmaker, if she says such things in such a manner. It doesn't bother him so much anymore, least of all from Sombra. He already knows to treat most of her so-called 'casual' conversations as an attempt to draw more from him. From the most banal to the most incriminating, her thirst for uncovering half-truths is something he's well-acquainted with. After a long, dramatic pause, he grunts.

"Lots of things remind me of what I used to be." His very mission, the people it revolves around...

Sometimes, he's a little envious of Widowmaker. It would be much easier if he just couldn't feel any emotion at all.

[vata]

"Like Morrison." Is the response that offhandedly slips out while she finishes resealing the sticker, as if she isn't here because of her habit of pressing where she should know better. As if she isn't treating Gabriel with the exact same care she'd shown Amélie at the time, albeit with less cutting humor.

[fantasmaniac]

The sound that follows is a half growl, half humming sound that might taper off into a wry sort of laugh. It's sounds just as confused (and accurate) as it should when it comes to Reyes's feelings about Morrison. Her stark observation isn't enough to anger him like it did with Widowmaker, fortunately.

Yeah, like Morrison— his silence seems to say. It's no secret.

"That same lack of tact that got you into this situation in the first place. You two better watch it."

The words sound like they could be sharp, but the warning in his tone is about as casual and offhand as Sombra's. At least, by this point, Reaper is more or less fine with letting this conversation die out and let her be on her way.

[fantasmaniac]

Yeahhh, he didn't think that would fly, but while there was nothing gained, there wasn't much lost either.

"I trust this won't be an issue."

He knows Widowmaker can keep a lid on her feelings, and ultimately her own agenda should she have any. But Sombra on the other hand... if she witnessed something as extraordinary as truly upsetting Widowmaker of all people, Reaper gets the feeling that their curious little hacker may end up trying to pry a little more. Perhaps not directly from Widowmaker, but...somehow. Who even knows with that woman?

He could be wrong, but he never lets any pinch of paranoia go unattended in some way or another.

[vata]

"I'm pointing out the truth." Sombra argues in return, as though that makes a difference. Her fingers curl over the lid of the box, weight shifting more comfortably to settle down across the sofa's arm rest: he might be done, but she isn't.

There's an itch along her mechanical spine— something nagging, something narrow— and a beat later, she acts on it.

"Talon isn't here, you know."

They're free agents, held together by goals, by wants, by needs and the shadows of who they could have been.

[araignee_du_soir]

"Obviously." Nothing on her end was an issue when it came to the mission, and when something else was an issue, she would simply eliminate it. One way or another.

"I am capable of working with anyone." As Reaper should well know. "Anything else?"

[fantasmaniac]

He does, and he really appreciates that Widowmaker.

Almost a slip of the tongue, he nearly tells her to keep an eye on Sombra. Like he's immediately suspicious of her. His earlier conversation with Sombra regarding their roles here as free agents (implied) didn't help his unease any, but he's nothing but adaptable. Should something come up or should he feel there be a change in plans, he's fully capable of modifying his approach but...

Something tells him that Sombra is trying to get him to stop, or change at least. Most of the time he is adaptable, but his personal feelings still seem to make him hesitate.

"No."

Maybe if he'd been emotionally tamped out like Amélie, it would've been easier.

[araignee_du_soir]

Lucky for Reaper, Amélie was already keeping an eye on Sombra. She's had her eye on her since their failed Volkskaya mission. This situation they were in, the undercover mission Sombra was on, without immediate Talon command presence made it highly likely that Sombra's penchant to play for herself over Talon would come to the fore. Widowmaker had a certain set of protocols that would be followed if the undesirable came to pass, but Amélie knew how to stave them off for a bit if the itch started to need scratching, so to say. Words, intervention, certain isolated acts... things that could be done to divert Sombra back to Talon and not initiate those protocols.

Yes, it was easier to not feel. It made decisions easier, but it created a hollow existence beyond anything that Reaper was currently experiencing. At least his purpose was his own. Widowmaker was a tool - nothing more.

"Do not stay up late. I am indeed going to 'milk' this last bit of Sombra's penance for as long as I can."

[fantasmaniac]

Jokes on you, Reaper doesn't sleep. Well, not much, anyway. Either way, whatever they do to make up for boundaries overstepped is ultimately their own business so he'll just leave them to it. He only pauses to listen before leaving the room in a quiet rush of air.

[vata]

Gabe was right to pause— though he might not realize it as he leaves in a curling wisp of smoke— the last shadowy trail masking shifting camouflage that dissipates almost simultaneously: her arms folded, hair wet, towel wrapped casually around her neck.

For a beat, she doesn't say anything, watching Gabriel disappear with unreadable interest.

He could have told Amélie the truth. Confessed that Sombra's been tipping the scale to skew their perceptions— their allegiences— but he didn't. Not a single word. Nothing. And it's enough to solidify some faint glimmer of something hovering in the back of her mind.

She turns to Amélie once he's gone, kicking herself off the wall and lifting her hands in a show of compliance. "Better?"

[fantasmaniac]

There's a pointed silence, the buzzing in his ears growing noisier as he watches Sombra with a sort of intensity like he's trying to solve a puzzle just by staring at it. He thinks he knows what she's getting at, and he's pretty sure he doesn't like it.

"Talon has barely anything to do with it."

Her words ring with some truth, about them being free from Talon's agenda, but Reaper never saw his work as being a part of Talon's. He saw Talon as another tool, another Blackwatch that was better developed and literally overstepped protocol for whatever they needed to get down (AKA terrorism). It's an extreme that Reyes would've been reluctant to resort to, but obviously nothing was too extreme for Reaper.

That being said, none of that was here. All he had here was a punching bag by the name of Jack, and a few scattered agents that meant little in the long run. It's been a long few years, biding his time and sticking with Talon, but it's only starting to dawn on him now the implications of their situation right now.

He'll...have to sleep on it. Figuratively, anyway.

[vata]

"Doesn't it?"

Talon wasn't the catalyst, but instead the enabler: they gave Gabriel a reason to keep going, a mission plan to follow when his own thirst for vengeance might have run thin. Without them here...

"I should get going. Wouldn't want to keep Widowmaker waiting."

Standing up, she tips her chin casually downwards, shrugging out the world's most relaxed farewell. "Not like she isn't mad enough at me already."

[araignee_du_soir]

That was a river they were all going to have to cross when it came to it, one of sharp ice and unknown terrors sliding silently underneath the frozen shell. One wrong step and only Talon knew what would break through the surface to consume the foolish.

When Sombra returned, Amélie none the wiser as to the others eavesdropping, pale eyes looked her over with a mild intensity, as though she wanted to be sure she wasn't just seeing things. And to check for that hair brush, of course

"Much better."

[fantasmaniac]

There's no stunning revelation, just a cold(er) creeping sensation of realization that what he'd wanted might just be another form of brainwashing. Perhaps not as absolute as Widowmaker's conditioning, but one of his own volition, so convinced that it was the only way for him. Feels kinda bad, man.

At least he has the time to mull over it now, if anything. He doesn't respond, or react in any visible form as she chats with him. Again, like someone just talking about the weather... it seems he just attracts that sort of company. People talking about serious things like they're not serious at all.

It's only when she's actually inside Widowmaker's room that he leaves the common area and back to his own room, waiting for an opportunity to engage Widowmaker in a brief conversation...

[vata]

It's raised and waved as if on cue while striding closer— as if Sombra isn't just capable of slipping silently through space unnoticed, but also reading minds as well.

"Anyone ever told you you're incredibly demanding?"