When she puts down her weapon, it seems to confuse him briefly, long enough for her words to trickle across. There's no sign apparent as to whether they're sinking in, just that steady panting and the trickle of something dark and viscous down his chin. There's no sign of retreat, just calm consideration as Sombra stands there, vulnerable and hand extended to him.
It gnaws at him even now. He doesn't want to hurt her. This is necessary. She says it isn't, but she doesn't know, she doesn't understand what he's been shown. The chance he's been given. He has his orders.
He thinks of a scarf, soft and warm and bright red against stark white. 'Soy tu amiga.'
Felix, however, seems to be irritated by the lack of action taking place. In an exaggerated roll of his head, he shifts in behind Locus. Christ's sake. I have to do everything myself, don't I? he grouses.
And, planting a foot against Locus's back, he hoists himself onto the gear with surprising lightness, before seizing hold of the chains anchored to the mechanism and yanking sharply, forcing Locus into motion. The chains twist and rake against one another as they pull at his limbs, and with a bellow of pain he jerks forward.
You don't get to go all soft on me now, you traitorous asshole. Get her.
no subject
When she puts down her weapon, it seems to confuse him briefly, long enough for her words to trickle across. There's no sign apparent as to whether they're sinking in, just that steady panting and the trickle of something dark and viscous down his chin. There's no sign of retreat, just calm consideration as Sombra stands there, vulnerable and hand extended to him.
It gnaws at him even now. He doesn't want to hurt her. This is necessary. She says it isn't, but she doesn't know, she doesn't understand what he's been shown. The chance he's been given. He has his orders.
He thinks of a scarf, soft and warm and bright red against stark white. 'Soy tu amiga.'
Felix, however, seems to be irritated by the lack of action taking place. In an exaggerated roll of his head, he shifts in behind Locus. Christ's sake. I have to do everything myself, don't I? he grouses.
And, planting a foot against Locus's back, he hoists himself onto the gear with surprising lightness, before seizing hold of the chains anchored to the mechanism and yanking sharply, forcing Locus into motion. The chains twist and rake against one another as they pull at his limbs, and with a bellow of pain he jerks forward.
You don't get to go all soft on me now, you traitorous asshole. Get her.
Another yank, and Locus swipes for her again.