Roadhog won't deny that at some point he needed to hear it all. Despite extraordinary circumstances, one thing hasn't changed: Junkrat's word is the only one around here he trusts, even if his accounts were sometimes riddled with holes. He could count on Rat not to leave out a single detail he did happen to remember.
Though, that ain't saying Rat didn't spout some pretty unbelievable things sometimes.
Roadhog responds with a bleary croak that sounds an awful lot like 'you what?' before groping for the device, balancing his hand on his quietly heaving chest to navigate the sea of thumbnails. Fortunately, Roadhog has had some practice with tiny smartphones and doesn't fumble and close out the entire gallery in the process of selecting a photo at random in order to bring it into full view.
...and it isn't a joke.
He peels his mask the rest of the way up, cracking a naked eye at it.
Almost feels like peering through a porthole into another reality.
The only reason he's sure that it isn't is because Junkrat is still pallid and balding, though the ravages of the wasteland are diminished even more so than usual by the big, happy smile on his face. The woman next to him is smiling too, both of them wearing wisps of golden pearlescent dust like they've just gotten back from the club.
Flicking left, he gets a better look at her. She has naturally fierce features, even though all she's doing in the next one is sitting with her hand wrapped around a cuppa.
"Pretty," is all he comments--too baffled to come up with much else.
no subject
Roadhog won't deny that at some point he needed to hear it all. Despite extraordinary circumstances, one thing hasn't changed: Junkrat's word is the only one around here he trusts, even if his accounts were sometimes riddled with holes. He could count on Rat not to leave out a single detail he did happen to remember.
Though, that ain't saying Rat didn't spout some pretty unbelievable things sometimes.
Roadhog responds with a bleary croak that sounds an awful lot like 'you what?' before groping for the device, balancing his hand on his quietly heaving chest to navigate the sea of thumbnails. Fortunately, Roadhog has had some practice with tiny smartphones and doesn't fumble and close out the entire gallery in the process of selecting a photo at random in order to bring it into full view.
...and it isn't a joke.
He peels his mask the rest of the way up, cracking a naked eye at it.
Almost feels like peering through a porthole into another reality.
The only reason he's sure that it isn't is because Junkrat is still pallid and balding, though the ravages of the wasteland are diminished even more so than usual by the big, happy smile on his face. The woman next to him is smiling too, both of them wearing wisps of golden pearlescent dust like they've just gotten back from the club.
Flicking left, he gets a better look at her. She has naturally fierce features, even though all she's doing in the next one is sitting with her hand wrapped around a cuppa.
"Pretty," is all he comments--too baffled to come up with much else.