[Her eyes drift shut as his fingertips trail down, tension melting out of her as if on cue. She can, after all, feel it: the cybernetic design of her implants might be configured to withstand moderate damage, but it's still fused to her skin, her bone and everything in between— and it's rare for anyone to come so close like this.
For the gentleness that seems so out of place in hands like his.]
Sombra.
[It slips out between her teeth, quiet as an exhaled breath.]
[ There's a small rumble, and as she sinks against him he continues the small, soothing motion of his hand. Surprising, that gentleness should seem so natural here. With anyone. With her. ]
Suits you better than Azúcar. Though that's the point, isn't it? You want them to see you that way.
[ As someone sweet. Harmless. It makes it easier for her to work her way around them and find out what she needs to, and she's mentioned before what her plans are concerning the truth of what the Legion is. Who runs it, what their real goals are.
A necessary disguise for some. Yet he finds himself smirking inside of his helmet all the same, a smirk audible through the filter. ]
I don't fear the shadows.
[ He'll wade right in after her. It's the light he feels wary of now, more than ever. ]
Mmhm. [More of a chuckle than anything else, coaxed out by contact— by the soft rasp of his helmet filter as the sound settles down between her shoulder blades, so familiar by now it's practically a balm.
So her nails curl in between backplates, tucking in around the edges, not searching out weakness, but for an anchorpoint instead. Something to ground her here in the quiet, ticking seconds while her mind is uncharacteristically at peace.]
[ She's seen what he fears. What she is afraid of? He doesn't know. Discovery? Being pinned down? Those seem likely options, knowing what he does. She's a chaotic little spark looking for things to set alight, and he could imagine terrible fates for her rather easily.
Which only makes him more determined to keep them from her, as it happens. One day. One day it'll be him offering her some kind of comfort instead of the other way around. ]
But right now? Their memories— their fears— aren't on the table. Her nails dig in by a few centimeters more as he speaks up, one last, lone exhale slipping free like a seal breaking before its lock is released; she might not be ready to let go, but she's always been good at doing it regardless.
Without complaint, she uncoils. Steps back between the open space of his fingertips, his hands, his arms. Predictably— with a smile.] Not as good as tequila, but if you've got it, I'll take it.
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For the gentleness that seems so out of place in hands like his.]
Sombra.
[It slips out between her teeth, quiet as an exhaled breath.]
My name is Sombra.
[There. Now they're even.]
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[ There's a small rumble, and as she sinks against him he continues the small, soothing motion of his hand. Surprising, that gentleness should seem so natural here. With anyone. With her. ]
Suits you better than Azúcar. Though that's the point, isn't it? You want them to see you that way.
[ As someone sweet. Harmless. It makes it easier for her to work her way around them and find out what she needs to, and she's mentioned before what her plans are concerning the truth of what the Legion is. Who runs it, what their real goals are.
A necessary disguise for some. Yet he finds himself smirking inside of his helmet all the same, a smirk audible through the filter. ]
I don't fear the shadows.
[ He'll wade right in after her. It's the light he feels wary of now, more than ever. ]
no subject
So her nails curl in between backplates, tucking in around the edges, not searching out weakness, but for an anchorpoint instead. Something to ground her here in the quiet, ticking seconds while her mind is uncharacteristically at peace.]
You don't fear anything.
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[ She's seen what he fears. What she is afraid of? He doesn't know. Discovery? Being pinned down? Those seem likely options, knowing what he does. She's a chaotic little spark looking for things to set alight, and he could imagine terrible fates for her rather easily.
Which only makes him more determined to keep them from her, as it happens. One day. One day it'll be him offering her some kind of comfort instead of the other way around. ]
...Taylor left some whiskey, I'm fairly certain.
no subject
But right now? Their memories— their fears— aren't on the table. Her nails dig in by a few centimeters more as he speaks up, one last, lone exhale slipping free like a seal breaking before its lock is released; she might not be ready to let go, but she's always been good at doing it regardless.
Without complaint, she uncoils. Steps back between the open space of his fingertips, his hands, his arms. Predictably— with a smile.] Not as good as tequila, but if you've got it, I'll take it.