There's a soft click, more felt than heard, and technically, by all definitions of the word: it does explode.

It's not strong enough to cause her any harm--it's just enough to make the two halves of the sphere force themselves open, and if she doesn't have a strong enough grip on either half it might even force itself out of her hand. The explosion scatters an unreasonable amount of hand-dyed epsom salts in the immediate vicinity, yellows and oranges and reds that mutely sparkle like fire in the dim light of the tea house.

One half of the sphere is empty, with the exception of the detonator mechanism and a mess of colorful salt crystals, but the other half is full, flush with black packing foam that has two slits cut into it. Within those slits are safely nestled gold rings, rather simple as far as details are concerned but with settings are designed to look like barbed wire; one is holding a polished lapis lazuli stone, and the other a bright fire opal.

It's not fancy, it's not conventional, but two things are clear: everything between her hands was meticulously planned and every detail was hand-made.

Junkrat sits there, silently, but his adamant grin won't budge as he waits to see her reaction.