Reaper can add long hard cowboy stares in his day-to-day, especially this day. It's awful hard to not give a sidelong gland at who he is for what he is and what McCree knows him as--some freaky sector of death breaking in on museums on Talon's behalf and almost made a real mess of Athena, or so Winston tells him--but, that scrap book.

McCree's narrowed eyes flit from the book, to Reaper's bone white face, back to the book, and back again while trying very hard to not imagine the book with a pink locket dangling from the spine and warning written in scrawling pink cursive, "𝓓𝓘𝓐𝓡𝓨, 𝓚𝓔𝓔𝓟 𝓞𝓤𝓣"

He's one sharply raised eyebrow away from convincing himself that's actually the case.

Of all the fucking people to also get suckered into this Legion business... why him?

"What the hell are you doing here?" As good as any other how-do-you-do. "And what the hell is that?"