legionworld | Action

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Who| Fareeha and You!
What| Post mission chillaxing
Where| Little Cairo Coffee Shop in Fareeha's habitation region
When| Post To Have And To Hold mission
Warnings/Notes| n\a

Fareeha had been left with a few things to think about, in light of her mission with Junkrat and a later conversation with Jack. She's inundated with conflicting emotions, none of them strong enough to rule out their resisting counterpart, but enough that there's a constant muzz in her head that she's trying to feel out. She had enjoyed her time with Junkrat, but should she have? Is she letting her guard down too much? But, she's never felt quite so at ease with herself in a long while. The mission itself offered some moral hesitance, and while she went through with it in the end, she wondered what that meant about the stability of her own morals, and what Legion might hold for her in the future.

She's not quite hiding, but she's spending a bit more time at the coffee house in her habitat than on the Legion ship. Feel free to hit her up for a conversation or a free coffee or tea (or milk tea boba, the newest item on the menu!).

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Genji wasn't beyond exploring. Toss that in with the promise he made to assist Fareeha in learning to center herself and he found himself in her section. The ninja was mostly relying on coincidence to run into her, mostly hoping to have the time to scope out the area before doing anything office. But glancing through a window as he headed by had results as he peered past his own reflection to see Fareeha.

Rather than head inside, he lightly tapped on the window. The metal on his finger rung out more than a flesh digit would, making it a bit more catching to the ear.

Fareeha starts slightly, her braids swinging as she looks over to the noise. When she sees who it is, however, she smiles easily and waves, and then gets up, gathers her drink, and meets him outside.

It's a nice enough day and she'd been sitting in the shop for a few hours now; a little time chatting with a friend in the open air wasn't a bad idea.

"I see you made it out of Olum alright. How did you and Elphelt fare?"

"Miss Amari."

A quick greeting as she comes out at his behest, both one of thanks and respect since he called her out.

"We were well enough. As things go, I doubt it could have been much better."

Which means it went pretty smoothly. A few hiccups but those were there to be ignored, not focused on.

"How about yourself and Mr. Fawkes?"

"It was a nice, easy mission, wasn't it?" It had its hiccups, but compared to her previous mission here, or really any of the engagements she'd had with her Helix team back home, this was quite literally a walk in the park.

"It was good. Surprisingly good." She grins despite herself, thinking back on their interactions over the course of the mission. Sure, there had been some downsides; they'd had arguments, feelings had been hurt, but they'd survived through all of it and came out with a better understanding of each other.

"How quickly were you able to find a relic?"

Junkrat has been very busy since getting back to Legion World after their mission, exercising his skills with a medium that he hadn't used in a while. It took a bit of patience and determination, lots and lots of failures -- but that's the nice thing about metals; you can always melt it back down and try, try, try again. Maybe if he'd been willing to settle for anything less than what he had in mind, it would have been completed a lot earlier, but Jamison Fawkes doesn't settle for anything other than his best.

When he finally finishes the product, he sends a message to Fareeha to ask her where she is, before taking a bath in his workshop-quarters to clean himself up. When he gets out of the bath, slots his prosthetics back on, and regards the finished product on his bench -- a palm-sized sphere that would look like one of his grenades if it hadn't been painted in a muted gunmetal black -- it's the first time that the thought goes through his head that maybe this was a bad idea. He was too focused on the task at hand to realize that this might be interpreted as a joke taken too far, a camel beaten well past death.

Does he think this is a joke? Maybe at first it was. He knows this is an unconventional way to go about it--backwards in every sense of the word, but then again: so is he. But Fareeha isn't. She's a straight-laced military girl with a traditional upbringing--well, more traditional than his. Had they gone this far because she genuinely thought it was amusing, really enjoyed his time with him, daresay maybe even interested in him...

...or was she just humoring the ugly village idiot?

Does it really matter either way? He holds the sphere in his hand, palming its weighty presence and smoothing his thumb over the surface, finding its bomb-like tactile feedback soothing, and he decides he doesn't care. How many years does he have left of his sick, irradiated lifespan? Might as well enjoy it while he can. She probably won't even get the chance to break his heart.

He pockets the sphere in his bag and gets dressed before checking his omnicomm to read the response she gave him. He sends her another message telling her to stay put, and he heads over to the habitat section of the ship. When he gets there, it's nice and hot like he likes to keep his own, and it's only thanks to his sense of direction that he finds the coffee house in a matter of seconds.

"Arvo, Fee!" he greets cheerily with a wide grin as soon as he gets inside, inviting himself to fall down into a seated position on a cushion across from her. He can't exactly sit on his legs, so they're instead spread just enough to straddle the cushion under him. "Owyargoin?"

The message had come as a happy surprise. Fareeha hadn't seen much of Jamison once they'd gotten back to the ship, but she had attributed that to her own habits. In the attempt to sort out her thoughts, she hadn't really sought anyone out. Sometimes, she needs that reminder that she doesn't have to venture this world alone.

Then there was the matter of Jaimie himself. She hadn't gotten any closer to settling how she felt about him, but she had to recognize that she felt better for knowing him. There existed a certain hesitance, or denial, about the greater implications, though.

She smiles back at him, easily, as he enters and seats himself next to her. She's come around for tea every single day since their return, taking comfort in the familiar surroundings of her home country, and it was nice to see Jamison in this setting now too. However, his greeting doesn't quite translate, and she has to frown slightly and tilt her head as she's trying to dissect what he said. Most times, when he uses Australian slang, she's able to deduce what he means through context clues, body language, and other nuances, but this time she's completely lost.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

A smile cracks across his face at her reaction. She's cute when she's not overflowing with that absolute confidence she likes to exude.

"Oh, sorry about that."

Junkrat presses his hand against his chest, sitting up straight and pointing his nose and looking down at Fareeha with rather snooty body language, speaking in his best impression of a conceited British accent.

"Good afternoon, my dearest Fareeha Amari! Praytell, will you enlighten me as to how you are faring on this lovely day?"

He giggles and drops the act, settling back into his slightly slouched-forward posture.

"No worries, mate, we'll be havin' ye speak strine in no time."

He certainly gets that from her than many others, when she's trying to front herself as capable and independent. It's not that she isn't, but that she's spent so much time trying to prove herself to others that it's hard to relax.

Somehow, though, he's able to continually disarm her out of that front and see the genuine, unfettered thing. She watches him put on his British Aires and laughs, a low airy chuckle that's rare and genuine.

"I look forward to no one knowing a thing I say but you." A fair bit teasing, but in good humor by the spark in her eyes. "I've been well. I realized I hadn't spent much time here when I arrived, so I decided to change that."

She's wondering if he's noticed the recent addition of Milk Tea with Boba to the menu, even if it's a little out of place with everything else.

He hasn't, due to being terribly fixated on the task at hand, but he'll come to notice it in due time.

"I like it! Very traditional. Love this kinda stuff, ya know? Seein' what the world looks like through the eyes of others. That's one of the reasons why I travel so much!"

Another giggle. The other reasons are self-evident and don't need to be mentioned right now.

"Anywhoo..." Junkrat reaches into his bag and pulls out that black metal sphere. "I made somethin' for ya!"

He places it on the floor and gives it a little push so that it rolls across the floor in her direction, making a heavy echo like a bowling ball in an alley. "Give 'er a twist," he instructs, holding one hand over the other to demonstrate.

The real question is, does Fareeha trust Junkrat enough to open up something he's given her that looks very much like it could explode?

That telling giggle is usually what makes her question things - his motives, her own feelings, her morals versus his background - but as he hadn't done her wrong yet she's willing to let it pass without further comment.

She watches the ball roll across the space and come to rest at her cushion, and gives Jamison a little glance as she sets her tea aside and picks the ball up. She is hesitant because of his reputation. Just as he had wondered if she were just humoring the village idiot, she had a moment wondering if he's taking advantage of her good will.

They could both be the fool.

But, in the here and now she hasn't seen evidence that he's up to mischief with malicious intent, and there is the matter of how she has felt when she's with him. So, she's willing to follow this adventure a little farther.

She twists the ball open.

Edited (HOW ONE LITTLE R MADE ALL THE DIFFERENCE) 2017-05-16 20:07 (UTC)

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.

"Did you manage to obtain love?"

It wasn't entirely nice but a small joke there wasn't going to hurt anyone. And he doubted Fareeha would be all that embarrassed, regardless of the answer. So a little ribbing was harmless.

"Quick enough. Though I have also found that those things are not to be rushed so it was not."

Fareeha chuckles at him, but it's more of a nervous sound. While yes, normally she'd be able to take some light ribbing, because of the nature of things it's a little too ... real, almost. She reaches up and pushes her hand through her hair, looking left and right down the street before looking a little closer at Genji.

Because who knew who might be listening.

"Can I be perfectly honest with you?"

There's a click.

There's a click.

In that fraction of a moment before it blasts itself apart, Fareeha's eyes widen with realization that he did indeed give her something explosive, and immediately her mind snaps towards the worst case scenario. She acts instinctively, her mind going blank as she curls herself around it in an attempt to contain the blast, save as many of the other patrons as she can.

But, it's not a white-hot end-of-everything painful death that she'd expected when she felt that click. It was something, alright, but not world-ending. She's absolutely covered in the colored salts, coughing slightly as she realizes she's still in one piece (and properly seasoned for a barbecue). She sits back and looks down at the pieces clutched in her hands - a little dazed and feeling the pump of adrenaline. She looks at the detonation piece and just thinks, Why?

Was this it? Had he been meaning to fool her all along, get her to let her guard down? Was this a warning? Was it a distraction?

Then she looks at the other piece and it takes even longer to fit it into the quiet narrative running rampant in her head.

What is she looking at.

Wait, rings. Rings. Engagement ... rings? There's a slow, subtle shift in her expression; while she hasn't said a word, right now it's clear on her face as she goes from fear and worry to confusion to an even greater confusion, and then seems to settle on something far lighter and more along the lines of bemused.

There's that soft chuckle, rumbling around in her chest before it gains strength. It goes from a chuckle to a proper laugh, and then somewhere along the line trips into a deep-bellied self-perpetuating howl. She throws her head back and just lets it take her, for the first time in a long - long - time, she just goes with it. She doesn't think about who might be watching, or what they might think, or how it's going to reflect on her superiors.

It feels good.

When she finally calms herself down, there are tears in her eyes, but she's smiling - so bright, unfettered, and she takes another look down at the rings. A large part of her reaction was relief; he hadn't actually been attempting to blow her to bits, and a large part of it was realization. What she knew of Junkrat now, and what she saw in the carefully crafted rings and, really, the entire setup, was how this was unashamed, unabashedly him. That he did things without thought to how other people thought they should be done, and there was something very pure and genuine about that fact.

"This is you. This is all you?" She looks at the rings, then up at him, awed and breathless.

If she could see Genji's face, there would have been a very noticeable double take. Thankfully, he was behind a visor, mask, and a HUD and his expression was entirely hidden. It was meant as a joke but this certainly wasn't the outcome he could have predicted. Nor was it one he would have recommended on a good day, much less a normal one.

"...you may."

She crosses her arms and takes a breath, letting a moment pass while she tried to find the words. She knew how it looked - which is why she's been so slow to admit it to herself, let along someone else.

"I'm ... not sure what I found. Spending time with Jamison has been, good. Surprisingly good. I agreed to accompany him with the idea that I'd keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't cause too much mischief ... but he makes me feel ..."

She winces; the phrase sounds too cliche, affected. "I can get a little too focused on things, and he has a way of pulling me back to the present." She rubs her arm, looking down at her hand. "I've felt better then I have in a long time."

Fareeha figured she didn't have to voice to Genji why this was weird and weighing on her mind; a Helix agent and a criminal? Daughter of Overwatch and one of Australia's most notorious terrorists?

He laughs as she protects his "bomb" with her own body. Maybe it could be interpreted as him making fun of her exceptionally even-thinking and reflexive reaction of trying to protect the immediate area from the kind of destruction he could wreck if he wanted to. But he laughs because her response is different -- many people would scream and try to get away, but here she is, trying to protect a bunch of strangers. So Pharah of her. A dark titter in the back of his mind points out that if he really wanted to cause that kind of destruction, one soft body would only provide more shrapnel through broken bones.

And he wouldn't be sitting so close if that's what it was made to do. Sure, he's blown himself to bits before, but it's not an experience he cares to revisit.

His laughter quiets down so that he can practically watch her brain move through all of the different steps to walk from gut instinct to realization of what reality actually handed her. As her own laughter escalates, he's barely a half-step behind her, clutching his stomach and, between the two of them, filling the quiet tea house with tear-jerking, side-bursting barks of laughter.

"All of it!" he practically sings when she finally gets enough air to ask her question. "All for you. Well--" He points at the rings. "The blue one is fer me ta wear."

As the adrenaline runs its course and sinks away, she's sobering up with the reality of what she's looking at. She runs her thumb over the fire opal, his words echoing in her head. He did all this, for her. He wants the blue ring ... to remind him of her, just as she assumes the fire opal represents him.

She's been coming to terms about how she feels through all of this, but she realizes whatever worldless, persisting bond has been growing between the two of them - there's been no deeper conversation. She looks up at him, more serious now, perhaps a little more guarded, as she holds the rings carefully.

"Why me? Was it just --is this just an extension of the mission, or ..." Or has she somehow touched his life the way he's touched hers?

"We're already married, mate, as far as the galactic government is concerned," he says, heaving his shoulders in a shrug. "Figured this was the logical thing ta do, since we--y'know...went through with everything."

He looks away, somewhat bashfully, rubbing the sharp corners of his jaw with his thumb.

"Not like we were leading up to a punchline or anythin', just doin' what felt right, and I'm not about ta stop doin' that. I mean, if ya don't want 'em..."

Now it's time for him to be guarded, even though he's trying really hard to make it seem like he isn't invested either way. Hours were poured into those things, thinking that she'd like them, but she doesn't owe it to him to accept them. He doesn't want her to feel like it's her obligation.

"...then that's fine. I'll take 'em back and we can get divorced. Not--" his voice cracks "--that bigga deal."

She doesn't hand them back, although she doesn't speak for a moment. She's leaning forward, elbows on knees, and lightly running her fingertips over the rings. She can tell he's invested a lot into this - not just by the craftsmanship but his reactions now - and she wants to be very careful, but very clear, in what she says next.

"We went through it all for the sake of the mission, and for the sake of respecting the native culture. Legion put us on that trek. This --" She tips the container slightly, indicating the rings, "This is serious. This is something that a lot of time, and a lot of care went into. I just want to know, that ... this step, this - continuation - has more to do with who I am," She pauses, pursing her lips, weighing the words in her head, "who we are together, than what any superior has asked us to do."

Her voice is soft, slightly chocked itself at the end. Does he truly feel something for her, or was it simply because circumstance thrust them together?

He's quiet while she talks. It doesn't sound like a denial, but he's attentive, just to make sure. When it feels like she's come to the end of her point, Junkrat looks down at his fingers, which have been fidgeting mindlessly throughout her talking, and still are, while he--for once in his life--considers his words carefully.

He knows how he feels, but putting them into words is hard. He kind of wishes they could share memories again, so she could really know how he felt, instead of having to push it through the restrictive meat grinder of language.

"Our job...what our superiors wanted us ta do...it ended when we found that relic. They didn't need us to stay the night, ta fight over which path we should take, ta fight over who gets to make the campfire, ta climb up a mountain and cover ourselves with weird, giant flower pollen. I did it because it was fun--and because ya wanted to."

He finally looks back up at her to make eye contact, to make his real point:

"It had everything ta do with who ya are. What ya are ta me."

And there it was. A small smile grows, and she looks down at her hands for a moment before plucking out the lapis lazuli ring and holding it out to him. "Then I guess we're doing this."

Her chest feels tight. A rush of excitement, to find out the feeling was mutual, diving into an entirely different kind of unknown. "Although, I can't help but think we're going about it in the absolute wrong order."

She'll take it as it comes, at the very least comforted by the fact that they're driven by each other and no other outside forces, however it began.

He gives a nod with her statement, showing that he was listening. Once she was done, he gave himself a moment to ponder. He had an idea of what she might be feeling. If she had flung herself headfirst into military matters from day one, it made a lot of things make sense.

So he started to walk away, but motioned so Fareeha would know to follow him.

"I must ask you, while they are good feelings, are they real?"

He gave a momentary pause but gestured to let her know he wasn't quite finished.

"You came back from a mission that was undercover and the cover was a romantic relationship. I would imagine you have had a very focused life that didn't involve much romance. So those feelings of validation and appreciation, while fake at the time, may have felt very real. It...is a common issue that undercover operatives must face. Even with my experience, I found myself faltering every so often this past mission."

He was aware he was lecturing so he decided to wrap it up before he sounded patronizing or offensive about it.

"So you must ask yourself, were those feelings real and do you think they would have formed in any other situation? Keep in mind this man, while friendly and sociable, is also a known terrorist and criminal and may have killed people in cold blood in the past."

He shrugs before leaning forward and offering his left hand to her, offering her the chance to put the ring on him herself. They missed the opportunity for a ring ceremony earlier, so this will have to do.

"If ya expected ta follow conventions, ya ended up with the wrong bloke."

Because, again: if she was really bothered by doing things backwards, it was unwise to fall for a backwards person.

She walks with him, slipping her hands in her pockets. She listens, though, and as she does she thinks over the mission and the different objectives and just why she's ended up feeling this way.

"I've had romantic relationships before." It's a little defensive, but she gets his point and sighs. She was married to her career back home. That didn't leave much time for interpersonal relationships outside of what was necessary to get the mission done, and she'd been even more of a social recluse in the Army.

"I'm -- a soldier, I'm not an actor, and he's pretty much a glass case of emotions. We didn't really play it up." She supresses hers and he throws his about with wild abandon; how could that not be a perfect match?

But Genji has given her some things to think about. "I've already told him how things would be if we were at home, but here ... I think he deserves a second chance."

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