¿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]

"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.

[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.

[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."

[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...