[Sombra slides out of the chair of her own accord, as if already reading Amélie's wants— she isn't all-seeing, of course, but the way she reads flickers and twitches, those little muscular movements, it comes close.
Her thumb scuffs over LaCroix's own, breathing low and steady and calm.]
Gabe's not the Council. He's got his own reasons, and believe me, I can handle him.
no subject
[Sombra slides out of the chair of her own accord, as if already reading Amélie's wants— she isn't all-seeing, of course, but the way she reads flickers and twitches, those little muscular movements, it comes close.
Her thumb scuffs over LaCroix's own, breathing low and steady and calm.]
Gabe's not the Council. He's got his own reasons, and believe me, I can handle him.
[A beat, and then:] I can handle anything.