"Tú te lo pierdes, 'manic pixie psycho'."

As he moves (predictably, she thinks) for his knives in utter frustration, Sombra doesn't bother to dodge. Her stare is fixed on him, on committing his face to memory before reality distorts. Snaps clean across digital space away from Locus' own personal purgatory back out into the empty metal hallways from before.

And then, after a beat, her attention shifts towards Cortana's obvious bewilderment:

"What?"