Out of all her successful kills, the only one Amélie wouldn't talk about, avoided referring to like the plague, was Gérard. She rarely ever brought him up as it was, even in idle conversation, unless someone pressed her on him or did something where a tale of her late husband was necessary. Her programming did a wonderful job of twisting what actually happened that night into something equal parts truth, equal parts fantasy, in order to keep Amélie's mind intact, if only because there was no amount of recoding or neural conditioning that could break her discipline utterly and completely. And so, Amélie still loved Gérard, her mind rationalizing his death as an act of true mercy from her (as he was a dead man walking).
At least, she knew she loved him even if she didn't feel the love like she used to. If she recalled the complete truth as to what happened to her, what occurred in that house that night after sweet lovemaking and more, it was entirely possible what human part of her that was left would shatter. Sombra's flippant downplaying of Amélie's suffering and sacrifice - as if Tracer could ever compare to that - had crossed that line that was always there, rarely touched, and never spoken of.
After the movie, Amélie had retreated to the safehouse to be alone. She'd endured too much socialization as it was and a safehouse was supposed to be safe. She didn't notice or care if Reaper returned, not even going so far as to exact the snack bag cleanup revenge on Sombra she'd been planning earlier (oh, she'd do it a day or so later). Instead, she changed into what counted as sleepwear for her - a tank top and spanks - and focused on the one thing that could always soothe her nerves, make the tension in her shoulders and back fade away.
Amélie had already finished cleaning Widow's Kiss by the time Sombra returned and she had moved onto reorganizing her ammunition, trays of lethal and stun rounds set on her bed before her as she worked to preload the cylinders that served as clips. She didn't look up or respond to Sombra's voice. The door to her room was open, but when it came to matters like this, Amélie expressed her displeasure with a cold shoulder.
no subject
At least, she knew she loved him even if she didn't feel the love like she used to. If she recalled the complete truth as to what happened to her, what occurred in that house that night after sweet lovemaking and more, it was entirely possible what human part of her that was left would shatter. Sombra's flippant downplaying of Amélie's suffering and sacrifice - as if Tracer could ever compare to that - had crossed that line that was always there, rarely touched, and never spoken of.
After the movie, Amélie had retreated to the safehouse to be alone. She'd endured too much socialization as it was and a safehouse was supposed to be safe. She didn't notice or care if Reaper returned, not even going so far as to exact the snack bag cleanup revenge on Sombra she'd been planning earlier (oh, she'd do it a day or so later). Instead, she changed into what counted as sleepwear for her - a tank top and spanks - and focused on the one thing that could always soothe her nerves, make the tension in her shoulders and back fade away.
Amélie had already finished cleaning Widow's Kiss by the time Sombra returned and she had moved onto reorganizing her ammunition, trays of lethal and stun rounds set on her bed before her as she worked to preload the cylinders that served as clips. She didn't look up or respond to Sombra's voice. The door to her room was open, but when it came to matters like this, Amélie expressed her displeasure with a cold shoulder.
And from her, it could get frigid.