Like catching rain in the palm of her hand, Sombra reaches up to let a few frigid droplets pool against her glove. The longer they spend wandering around in a place like this, the less unsettling it becomes— and there's a danger in that, she knows it. But then again, what other choice do they have? Any time they waste jumping at shadows makes them less capable of holding their own against whatever's keeping them here.
"But until that pendejo decides to show his face, it is what it is."
no subject
To all of this.
Like catching rain in the palm of her hand, Sombra reaches up to let a few frigid droplets pool against her glove. The longer they spend wandering around in a place like this, the less unsettling it becomes— and there's a danger in that, she knows it. But then again, what other choice do they have? Any time they waste jumping at shadows makes them less capable of holding their own against whatever's keeping them here.
"But until that pendejo decides to show his face, it is what it is."