¿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

[araignee_du_soir]

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.

And from her, it could get frigid.

[vata]

"Right."

About what she'd expected, honestly. Which is why she doesn't push it, slipping carefully around the corners of Amélie's peripheral vision, one hand perched on top of the little gift box, tapping at it like it might somehow spark interest where Sombra (for the moment) does not.

"Listen, about that..."

A tepid start, she waits to see if there's a glance, a twitch— anything that might clue her in as to whether or not Amélie's actually paying attention.

[araignee_du_soir]

Caring little for whatever Sombra may have in hand - she assumed it was whatever candies her and Tracer had been eating earlier - Amélie didn't make any move to look up or even acknowledge her presence. The only indication Sombra got that she was even listening was the slightest pause of her hands before she put the final bullet in the cylinder and moved to the next.

Sombra was going to have to make an honest effort to get Amélie to look up at her.

[vata]

Fair enough.

Maybe it's part of being Talon that the words 'I'm sorry' never seem to want to come up naturally in conversation, regardless of what's been done or what's at stake; maybe it's because she didn't learn to say them when she was young enough without it being a con, because truth be told, the only thing Sombra associates an apology with is insincerity.

Restitution, on the other hand...

This time she moves in close, padding across the open space between them without hesitation, setting the little box down across the top of Amélie's rifle. It's no more than five inches across or tall, only moderately heavy, the little sticker on top glinting brightly in that low, low light.

"I got you something."

[araignee_du_soir]

Lo siento. Even Amélie knew that was what should come out of Sombra's mouth. She also knew how foreign those words were in the other woman's mouth, so she wasn't expecting them.

Her hands pause yet again as the box was set down within her visual range, the sticker catching her attention. Her lips pursed a moment; she wasn't going to just let Sombra buy her way out of this. She did set down the items she had in hand to reach out and open the box. It wasn't going to fix this, but a tiny part of her was curious what Sombra thought would win her back.

Before Sombra reaches Amélie

[fantasmaniac]

Reaper arrives after Sombra. Taking different routes to the base is difficult, but necessary, especially after attending such a social gathering with a high turnout. Meandering about in a seemingly random fashion, he took the long way around came in through the back.

He isn't 100% sure what'd gone down between Sombra and Widowmaker during the short span of a Movie Night, nor does he care, but them butting heads is less than ideal. They just don't have that sort of luxury anymore. That being said, instead of shutting himself up in his room like usual, he heads for the common area. Passing the open door of Widowmaker's room, he ignores it and moves on. He's mostly aiming to intercept Sombra first.

[vata]

It's not hard: the corridor leading in is purposefully narrow (part of her contingency plan, just in case someone ever manages to find their way inside), and his width takes up the near entirety of the exit leading out into the common room. A grim, heavy barricade against what's left of Sombra's crucial mission.

Which means he gets a pointed look, the back of Sombra's tongue clicking against her teeth as she shifts her weight impatiently.

"Don't tell me she's got you running interference."

[vata]

She likes to think this is better than 'lo siento'.

The lid, once lifted away, draws back to reveal a delicious looking cupcake, meticulously constructed with lace patterning that mimics spider webbing all around the edges. French vanilla, lavender and lemon cake underneath— if she ordered this directly from the Legion cafeteria (and not as a delivery made from a third party through them) it must have been a painstakingly precise process.

Not to mention the fact that the order had to have been put through while she was still on her date with Lena.

"Tadaaa." Sombra hums, her voice a low, lilting purr.

[araignee_du_soir]

Good. Sombra had known the moment she stepped over the line, judging by the look of the cupcake. Too bad it wasn't enough. Closing the lid on the box, Amélie set it aside.

"I will eat it later," she replied, finally gracing Sombra with words. Empty and devoid of any emotion at all. A hand pulled the long tail of her hair back behind her shoulder, then...

Click. Click. Click. More rounds into the cylinder.

[fantasmaniac]

There's no visible ticks of annoyance, just a steady looming presence as he eyes the box in her hands. A present, no doubt.

"You already know that's not her style..."

Now that he's got her attention, he moves a little from the hallway entrance. She can either be completely rude by side-stepping him to avoid this conversation, or not. He'll give her that option, but he'll find a way to keep himself informed whether they like it or not. Issues that come up due to mission complications is one thing, but personal conflicts are things he tries to make his business. Or at least be aware about them.

"...and that won't be enough."

Said while staring pointedly at the box.

[vata]

"Mm."

Tapping her chin, Sombra bites her lip in agreement— seemingly unfazed by the moderate dismissal she's currently being offered. "There was something else, too..."

Feigned pondering turns to pacing, turns to muttering. "...what was it. What was it."

"I could've sworn I had it right—" She lifts her opposite hand, holding it out above Amélie's careful work, fingers unfurling to reveal a thin, sythetic bracelet. "—here."

Spoiler alert: it's a fitbit.

[vata]

"And if I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you didn't trust me." More precisely her judgment. She shakes her head, sidestepping only as far as she needs to to sit down across the back of the couch, little box resting gently atop the armrest beside her.

"She tell you what happened?"

[araignee_du_soir]

If Amélie wasn't set on not giving Sombra any emotional reaction, even a feigned one, she would've sighed in mild annoyance at this display. She may have even urged her to get to the point. But a sniper had unparalleled patience; she would wait Sombra out.

Her eyes flickered up to take in the electronic device, noting its apparent purpose, for a moment before shifted her attention back. Still, she didn't bother to give Sombra the courtesy of actually looking at her.

"And what use is that to me? Aside from showing how regulated my sleep is compared to you. It is not even my preferred color."

[vata]

"But it is someone else's." Sombra purrs, using her thumb nail to turn the band flat against the palm of her hand, proudly displaying Tracer's limited edition, entirely personalized brand.

"Literally."

That, at least, might be enough to win back Amélie's attention. And if it isn't? Well, that's where her wellspring of ideas runs dry. Stealing from her supposed romantic interest is, after all, about as much of a risk as she can afford to take without completely decimating her cover.

[araignee_du_soir]

Again, Amélie's hands stilled and her eyes moved back to look at the device and what was far more evident now that Sombra had it properly displayed. A heavy moment hung in the air before she set the ammunition down upon the bed and a single, well-manicured nail was drawn down the length of the band. If this really was...

Finally, Amélie graced Sombra with her gaze. "Oh?" There was the slightest bit of life in that one word, but then her lips tugged down a bit. "Regifting is quite uncouth - even for you."

A calculated jab aimed to push Sombra into telling her the tale without having to ask for it. And continue to display her displeasure.

[vata]

"Is it technically regifting if she wasn't using it in the first place?"

As Amélie scuffs the length of the band with her nail, Sombra reaches forward with her other hand, overturning Amélie's and setting the device there — solidifying the exchange.

"The way I see it, anything she left out in that safehouse of hers is fair game."

Dusting her hands of her appeasement, Sombra steps away, fingers curling contentedly in midair. "Trust me when I say that place was like a graveyard of old memories and junk: hard to tell what was real and what she had installed into the Legion's system. I don't even think she'll notice that it's gone."

Or at least not for a little while. Long enough for Sombra to feign innocence.

[araignee_du_soir]

"It is regifting if she gave it to you and then you gave it to me," Amélie replied, draping the device over her wrist to see if it would fit. Tch. Tracer had tiny wrists. It was a good thing Amélie had no plans to wear it.

"But if you simply took it..." She wove the band between her fingers and rose to her feet, drawing close to Sombra. "It is not nice to steal from your girlfriend."

[vata]

To that, Sombra only has one answer, folding her arms behind her back and tucking her chin down— the absolute picture of innocence— though the viciousness in her voice suggests something else entirely.

"I know."

Only one action taken tonight is one that she intends to take back, and it isn't this.

[araignee_du_soir]

The tone prompted Amélie's own lips to curl up into that conspirator's smirk she tended to get when they were both being nasty toward the same target together. She caught herself before it became fully fledged, returning to proper resting bitch face. Sombra almost had her there. But not yet.

Amélie leaned in a bit, nostrils flaring, before making a displeased sound in the back of her throat. "I can smell her on you. Go wash up, then bring my brush in here when you are done." She turned away, free hand pulling the tie from her hair, and surveying her walls for the perfect place to hang the fitbit.

"I will consider forgiving you."

[fantasmaniac]

Excuse you, his trust in you is not the thing in question! So the remark is deftly ignored and only when she asks does he react with a shake of his head.

"Only that she was 'done with you for the night'."

A bit unusual for Widowmaker, if he was reading the tone of a text as well as he could.

[vata]

"'Wash'." Sombra repeats, lip curling like she's just been asked to scrub the floors.

Somehow she imagines she could shower a hundred times and it still wouldn't be enough for Amélie's perfect, perfumed, absolutely exacting standards. Which might be why she's currently trying to see just how much she can get away with without completely undoing all her efforts tonight.

[vata]

Don't worry so much, Gabe, she always has a contingency plan

"I might have said something about Gérard Lacroix." Something small, inconsequential...and wholly insulting.

She tips her head back as she says it, humming as if it's not half as big a deal as all the hoops she seems to be jumping through to fix it would imply. A sure sign she's downplaying the entire thing.

"You know, underneath all that ice? I think she still cares about him."

[araignee_du_soir]

"That is what I said." Amélie looped the hair tie about her wrist and ran her hand through her hair. "Despite the mess you prefer to live in and the stench of the clothing I collect off the floor, I am positive you clean yourself at least every other day." Which was good enough that Amélie didn't mind Sombra touching her.

"But normally you do not smell like Lena Oxton." She gave Sombra a scathing look - cleanliness was next to godliness - before her expression shifted back. "At the very least, get out of those clothes. I will not suffer her scent upon my bed." Which was exactly where she was going to gave Sombra brush her hair. Then she would forgive her.

[vata]

"But you'll suffer her belongings on your wall."

It's a critical little huff: she'd taken a shower before going out, taking another one right after seems excessive— but if this is what it takes, it's what it takes. That, and Sombra's fairly certain that Widowmaker isn't wrong. She'd been huddled up against Oxton for hours, that kind of thing is bound to rub off.

[araignee_du_soir]

"The wall is not my bed," Amélie replied. "And where else would I display it?". A trophy belonged on the wall. She may not have claimed it herself, but it was part of the joint effort of destroying Tracer.

"Now go. And do not forget my brush."