"Don't get too used to it." Sombra hums toothlessly— a sign that she's only teasing as she finishes with the last section, taking the other two between her fingers and beginning to work out the start of a braid. It's quiet in that little space, but through the cracked window nearby the ocean's audible enough. Maybe even Gabriel, too, if he was doing anything but haunting a dark corner somewhere.

The pressure on her ankle doesn't bother her in the slightest— and neither does its temperature.

"I'm not that nice."