She'd turned on her heel towards him in that split-second— clawed fingers outstretched— with every intention of hacking his AI: the fastest way to establish control over the situation (in spite of being heavy-handed). Coming face to face with the sight of his distress, the scream he lets out just before something snaps rapidly into view—

Sombra doesn't wait to fall back on her heels, darting away in the hopes of getting clear before anything takes hold, thermoptic camo activated with a flick of her wrist so that if she does manage to disappear, he won't be able to easily track her.

A pale flicker of digitized violet fading away like ebbing sparks.