'Course it was, 'course it was. Roadhog turns his head slightly, giving the horizon a slow, chagrinned nod. It might be in his blood to loathe her presence and distrust her on sight, but his disbelief wasn't directed at her.

A one-armed sheila knocking at their door, plus one partially built prosthetic sitting on Junkrat's work table equals basic math. And it wasn't his job to question what Rat did with his own free time.

"Boss'll be back around soon." Roadhog lumbers a few more steps forward, stops, and drags his boot through the dirt, drawing half a circle around the mine between them, before turning to walk in the direction of the ugly metal structure beyond the two dead, mutilated vehicles.

"Careful," he mutters, still on the move.

In the center of the mark he left behind, there's the faint hint of something - an unnaturally round contour in the soil.

"Or you might step on some magic."