"Beauty mark?" Junkrat asks incredulously, looking over her shoulder. "Then it sure as hell doesn't belong on me," he jests, hoping his self-deprecatory humor will be appreciated.

He's still as she works on him, and all she gets out of him during the process is a throaty little groan of protest at the sting.

"Even if I remembered ta bring it, doesn't guarantee I'd remember ta use it."

At least he's honest.