thisavrou_log | It was strange to find them here, still alive...

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It was strange to find them here, still alive...

Who: Widowmaker and Reaper
When: End of the demon plot
Where: Talon Suite
What: While an unconscious Sombra is being cared for post-demon attacks, Widowmaker tests the waters surrounding Reaper again with more personal than professional interest
Warnings: needles otherwise none expected

Over the last few long days after Widowmaker had found Sombra unconscious but out of the way in a hallway of Avagi, with a blanket covering her, the spider had been taking care of the hacker. Sombra tucked into the bed in their shared room, Widowmaker had been spending more time in their suite than she usually did. Just in case Sombra woke up as she'd been unconscious for far too long given the extent of her relatively minor injuries. Guilt was something Widowmaker was becoming more and more acquainted with, and her own involvement - or lack thereof - regarding the demon gnawed on her. So the day she noted a change in Sombra's status, she messaged Reaper immediately.

Bring an IV kit and two of the large ice packs from Medical immediately.

And when Reaper showed up, Widowmaker was sitting on the bed with Sombra, adjusting cool cloths over her cybernetics.

"I think her system has begun to repair itself. Promising. But it seems like her cybernetics are overclocking. Too much heat." She held out a hand for the supplies. "I'm not going to let her own augmentations boil her brain. Help me, si vous plait."

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Reaper isn't slow with his response, but he does not come bursting through the door like a man who has been rushing, either. He's already taken it upon himself to crack the ice packs with his claws to distribute the compound across it. The IV kit is tucked under his arm.

He'd been all over the station, checking in on various assets and other things, and thankfully had not been far from medical when Widowmaker had called upon him.

"If that's true, then cooling is just a temporary fix," he grumbles, unpacking the kit while she places the packs. Behind the mask, he finds himself frowning at the sight. At least she had decided to ask him for help, instead of trying to do it all herself.

Taking the packs, Widowmaker lifted Sombra up enough to get the one between her back and the bed, against her spinal augmentation, and then gently rest her head down on the other one, one of the cloths as a barrier to keep what skin she had from getting damaged. Reaper had a very valid point and, for a brief moment, there was a flicker of real worry across the sniper's face.

"It is the best we can do right now, unless you know of a cyberneticist on board that we could trust with her." Turning to take Sombra's arm, she began looking for an appropriate vein for the IV - not an easy task all things considered. "Keep her cool and hydrated until this passes..."

It had to pass. Widowmaker would accept nothing less. Especially since she couldn't shoot the damn demon responsible.

"We could ask." A chance was better than nothing, and if they failed, they could kill them in response. Easy enough.

But he catches the emotion flicker across her face, and can't help but raise an eyebrow. He wasn't without sympathy (even if it seemed like it sometimes) but seeing it on Widowmaker was always enough to throw him. Still, he eventually manages to crack open the kit, and starts the process of threading everything -- minus the needle.

"Go sanitize," he reminds her, taking one knee. "Unless you want me to do this."

A ghost, and a woman with a heart that barely beat. Not exactly the most qualified individuals to be searching for a vein.

"That is your call. I cannot entrust the welfare of a valuable Talon asset to an unconfirmed technician unless under orders." And that was all she was going to say about that. Not only could she not allow it, she didn't want to do so. For the moment, she trusted in Sombra's automated systems, that they would pull her through what damage she took without killing her.

"And I have steadier hands than you. I will do it. See if you can find a vein among all those wires. Otherwise we'll have to use one of the ones on her inner wrist." A dangerous place to put a needle, but they would do what they had to.

Rising from the bed, she headed to the bathroom to thoroughly wash her hands and don the last pair of gloves from their first aid kit.

“I’ll take that as the ‘don’t you dare’ that you wanted it to be.”

Reaper moves aside to take Widowmaker’s place, turning Sombra’s arm over to do as she had asked. Predictably, he doesn’t have much luck — so he pauses to reach up and remove his mask to give him a better sense of what he is looking at. His gloves follow suit — strong, black fingers press around in frustration. The wires were not as dense further up her arm, but that did not make the task any easier.

Eventually, he finds one, and presses his finger to it with some satisfaction.

“Hurry, before I lose track of it.”

From the bathroom came, "I would never say such a thing to one of the Council." At least, not out loud.

Emerging prepared to stick Sombra with a needle, Widowmaker moved with practiced efficiency as she opened the sterile needle and zeroed in on the vein Reaper found. Thank god he found one. A swab of alcohol on Sombra's skin and she inserted the needle on the first try. A little medical tape had it in place, and ready to be attached to the saline.

"Parfait," she breathed out as they finished getting the IV going. "I will continue to keep watch over her and monitor her condition." One hand brushing the hair back from Sombra's face, the other pointed over at the ratty bear sitting on the dresser. She snapped her fingers, still focused on the hacker, just assuming Reaper would retrieve the bear for her.

Did she just ... ?

Reaper growls low with some irritation at her chosen gesture, but opts to comply in spite of it. He is slow to rise, and slow to move, but eventually he returns with the bear. He pinches it between two claws while offering it to her.

“I thought you hated this thing.” is what he settles on, rather than her investment in Sombra’s condition.

With a mild snort of amusement, Widowmaker took the bear from Reaper and tucked it in next to Sombra. "I am incapable of hatred." In case he'd forgotten. "But Sombra holds great affection for the disgusting thing, so it may give her some comfort when she awakens; something familiar to latch onto as an anchor while her mind refocuses."

Her eyes turn to Reaper as she settled down on the open side of the bed. "She is not like us." And before he could seek clarification on what she meant by that, Widowmaker continued with a question.

"Did you see the demon responsible for this?"

"You do a decent impression of it," is Reaper's perhaps predictable reply. He could make a comment on her cold calculation on how Sombra will be comforted in the wake of trauma, but chooses not to. Its not really his business, not to mention that he would be throwing stones in a glass house.

If he had desired clarification on how he and Widowmaker were similar, he doesn't bother to try and voice it, and accepts the subject change. Its not exactly an easier target -- after all, the answer was likely obvious to his partner.

"Briefly. Didn't get a good look. It lost interest when it couldn't keep a hold of me."

If Reaper was going to comment on Widowmaker's tactics in handling Sombra's care and recovery, he would have more options to choose from as the sniper tucked her legs underneath her and began sectioning out piece of Sombra's hair that she began to plait. Once one was finished, she would begin on another and another until eventually there were many little braids in the hacker's hair.

"So it did come after you as well." She frowned as her eyes focused on the weaving her fingers were occupied with. "I saw it once, early on. It passed right by me in the hallway as though I did not even exist." Her frown deepened.

"I dismissed it as a non-threat." And therefore hadn't bothered to warn either of her teammates about it. "I wonder why it ignored me."

"Don't know," he half-grunted, finding a surface to lean against other than the bed and arms folding across his chest. "It wasn't very strong to start with, so I didn't think much of it."

But then again, aside from being a ghost, he had at least four times the strength of most normal men. His gauge for that had never been particularly good. He can't really help but comment after a stretch of silence.

"She'll be fine."

Widowmaker couldn't recall the last time she'd been completely ignored. Even those that didn't address her and pretended to ignore her still gave off the feeling that they were completely aware of her presence. The demon had been different; it was unsettling.

"She better," came the dispassioned response. Widowmaker would accept nothing less. "Did you know that she is the only person who knows what I am that treats me as though I am an actual person? I hadn't noticed before this," she said with a nod toward Sombra's unconscious state. "Reaper... you knew me before I was Talon. Why do you treat me just the same as the rest of the Council?" She didn't bother to look up at the reaction as she wasn't sure if she cared what her question evoked.

"Even Ogundimu. He covers it with his natural charisma, but the core is still the same. It makes sense for them all... but not you. Not with the way you wear your emotions about you like you do your cowl."

“Are you asking me for special treatment?” comes Reaper’s reply, effectively dodging her question. “Is that why you’re grooming her like a kitten?”

In spite of her question, his tone remains mostly neutral. In truth, he didn’t have much of an answer for her — his emotions fed off of the emotions of others. Widowmaker had nothing to feed from.

“Its business. That’s all.”

It was that insulting question about special treatment that got her to look up from Sombra's hair with those unwavering unnatural eyes that seemed to peer right into a person when she didn't bother to coat them with the veneer of replicated emotion. How interesting that being treated as an actual person was considered asking for special treatment. She really was nothing but a weapon, even to someone like Gabriel and all the ties he had - direct or indirectly - to Amélie LaCroix.

"Nothing more than any other favored weapon deserves - upkeep and regular use. Business, as you say. A shame you are all afraid of the keen edge I was given," she replied coldly, eyes returning to Sombra. It was hard to properly wield a weapon when one knows the wrong move will bring about the loss of a limb.

"Her hair gets in the way more often than not while keeping her from developing a stench. Its natural curl is making itself known and tangles easily. I only have so much patience for things that irritate me, and there is that American saying about idle hands..."

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It was strange to find them here, still alive...

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