thisavrou_log | (no subject)

(no subject)

Who: Reaper and Sombra
When: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Where: Reaper and Sombra's Den of Debauchery
What: Plans didn't quite pan out as expected, but it worked out anyway???
Warnings: Will update

The familiar cloud of smog descends and reforms on the top-most balcony of the treehouse almost a full half-hour after fleeing the scene of Jack Morrison's farm. Somewhere between there and here, he and Sombra had been separated -- but that wasn't necessarily the end of the world. He knows now that the surveillance system works, and that's really all that had mattered to him at the time. Sombra would find her way back safely, he's certain.

If he tried to follow everything she tried to do, he'd surely go even more insane. Best not to hyper focus and instead turn to other, more productive things to hyper-focus on.

With everything that had been going on with the mandatory quarantine, Reaper had managed to lose track of his own projects. Frustrating, but a largely unpredictable outcome. Most of his samples had been lost, save for what was left in his apartment -- likely not enough for Saren to break down as he had hoped. If he'd been thinking about that at the time, perhaps he would have just pulled the trigger and erased the object of his fury for once and for all.

He steps back down into the house, which still smells like paint from the beginning of Sombra's art project, and pauses to listen for her footsteps.

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I was wondering if you were going to come back.

[Already behind him, arms folded, Sombra reappears without fanfare or flourish. Simple as opening a door, or stepping out of the shadows.

~~Surpriiiiise.~~]

I live here.

[He says it just as simply as he steps further into the room once Sombra has confirmed that she's behind him and safe, taking only a second to confirm that its actually her standing behind him, and not someone or something else.

Immediately, he strides over to the large monitor on the other side of the room to check that the feeds are still operational.]

You got caught.

How many years of looking over his shoulder for you has he been through?

[Sombra shrugs, seemingly unbothered by the idea that her hand had been caught firmly in the cookie jar.]

I got the feed up and running.

[A beat, and then:] But I'm guessing you knew that already, didn't you.

[He'd been there so quickly, he had to have had eyes on the situation— near or far. So either he followed her, or...

Her eyes trail over towards the monitors where he's settled, taking in the slope of his shoulders and the monitors behind them.]

Too many.

[They'd both been alive too long. For however ready Reaper was to be done with all of this nonsense, he wasn't ready to go without taking a few people wit him.

His body armor scrapes against itself as he folds his arms, head turning between all of the cameras. The line of his shoulders is stiff, but his claws have yet to begin their aggravated tapping. It seems that, for the time being, he's got what he wants.

Sombra doesn't get a verbal answer to her question -- its a non-sequitur. Normally, she might have gotten a Someone has to keep an eye on you or something similar, but he doesn't have it in him.]

[And normally she'd hone in on it: dig into the idea that he cares, that he couldn't leave her alone, that they're friends— or something like it. But he didn't need to be there, watching her back; he got what he wanted, if the working system in front of him counted for anything.

He chose to look out for her, and Sombra pays it forward.]

Nice, right?

[Arms folding in a much smaller mirror to his stance as she sidles up beside him, her attention's fixed on the working screens and their holographic displays (with a certain trademark skull fixed in the corner of each panel).]

You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get some of these parts.

[Reaper's head follows Jack's movement through his property. Under the mask, his eyes are narrowed. For a moment, he marvels at how long he'd been working on his own. He'd nearly forgotten how easy a team made things.]

Did you leave me with debt I should know about?

[The growl of irritation is so minor, it may as well not even be there. Even if he wouldn't acknowledge it outright, it was clear that he owed her the favor. A debt or two could be repaid.]

Relajate.

Just an enemy or two. It won't be a problem. [She's found worse before, and it's not as if she hadn't sniped the thief's job right out from under his nose. With a little luck— or maybe a little persuasion— he might even forgive her.

But probably not.]

[Relajate his foot. Even with his background, he'd managed to keep from making too many enemies. He's not trying to start now.

There's a pause of silence where he takes the opportunity to pull his eyes away from the monitors to instead look at her.]

Did you at least get names?

Eh.

[Translation: no. Dismissed with yet another shrug and a faint waving of her fingertips.]

Don't worry about it. If he holds a grudge over it, it'll only be for me.

[Yeah. Well. That's not exactly beneficial for him, either. Aside from the fact that he may or may not prefer Sombra's company to other's, she also now lives with him.]

If I wanted you gone, I would just do it myself. I don't need anyone else's help.

[Which is probably the closest she'll get to a 'I'm not just going to let some asshole try anything funny on you'. His head turns back to the monitors.]

Anything else happen?

If you wanted me gone you would have left me with Morrison and Amari. [Could've, might've, didn't— he can wear the mask and all the grim accessories that go along with it, but somewhere underneath it all, he's still Gabriel Reyes. Still human.

The idea of being a team, she imagines, still means something to him. Probably in ways she'll never really understand.]

No I wouldn't.

[Weren't you listening??? He said he'd do it!!

But she's not exactly wrong about his feelings toward his team, however small or large. Which is precisely why he would never think to leave a current member alone to be taken out by the ones who'd left him behind so easily.

If there is one thing Reaper still understands, its the value of an ally. Otherwise, young Angela Ziegler wouldn't still be walking around.]

Answer the question.

[~~That'd have taken more energy than just leaving her to the old wolves, do you know how extra that is, Gabe?~~

Her lip curls upwards just a few degrees more, smug and satisfied at the idea (and in contrast, his stubborn adherence to never giving her more than an inch of verbal slack).]

I found someone who can help you with your little bioengineering problem.

[That's better. Reaper's arms unfold from their typical stand-offish sort of posture, and he seems to focus more on her rather than the wall behind her.]

I'm listening.

[She knows what he expects by now -- no need to dance around it, when she'd clearly proved that she was on his side.]

No names just yet: contact through a contact. [She turns to face him, taking up the surveillance desk as a new perch when she sits across the far edge.] They're laying low thanks to all this biohazard business.

We get in the clear, they'll lend us a hand.

As far as I can tell he's good for it— if he wasn't, I don't think his clients would be half as cheerful as they looked.

[Yeah, ok, he knows how that goes. He nods, satisfied.]

Good. He only gets one shot. I'm almost out of samples.

[And, truth be told, he isn't sure if his own tissue would have the same result as Jack's -- likely not, given what they explosion had done to the pair of them.]

Don't worry, I'll make sure it works.

[She always does, after all: Sombra's a creature of tireless, meticulous attentiveness. The only time something fails? Is because she wants it to. A more recent addiction to her pattern of dotting every 'i' and crossing every 't'.

Her clawed nails tap at the screen closest to her, just behind her shoulder.] Didn't come here to screw us over.

Confía en mí.

[Satisfied, Reaper meanders away from both Sombra and the monitors to instead settle down on the one couch in the room. Confía en mí. As if he had any real choice in the matter.

But he does.]

If I didn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation.

[Like an animal flicking its ears forward at attention, Sombra sits upright just a few degrees more, one leg folding under the other. No argument from Gabriel, no grumbling resistance: if she was working (impatiently) to try and undo whatever went down before she wound up here (she was), this is the first sign she's finally winning out.

And oh, how she loves winning.]

Good to know.

[Her tongue hits the back of her teeth when she chuckles, attention flicking upwards to the ceiling just above their heads.]

Guess that means I should get started on bringing the rest of this place up to shape in the meanwhile.

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