*:・ﾟ★ GOOD SHOT LEGOLAS ;
It was a strange and unusual feeling, being thrown into a group of misfits after so long having wandered alone. Not that it was easy by any means, in fact, it took a great deal of convincing from his brother the cause was worthwhile. Through pleading he was swayed- though it was not his intention to ever stay long. Yet a chance was given, being generous at that, agreeing to stay at their main base a while, Watchpoint: Gibraltar, train on the field with them, see their ways in which they work. He agreed to lend a hand, offer his skill as an assassin for only a short while, before he’d head out on his way once more.
Target practice was a mandatory evaluation, given by the head scientist in order to see where he would best fit in. An assassin, with a skill and accuracy that could only compare to one other: Jesse McCree, the gunslinger. How he’d watched him on the training grounds with a curious eye, taking note of how he never truly missed a target thrown his way. From the serape draped across his broad frame, to the wide brimmed hat that shrouded his face, he truly was something out of the wild west- a cowboy, as he’d heard few call his way.
In the end, it was clear their fields of expertise were one in the same, and once all disbanded, it was the two of them left walking back together for dinner in the dining hall. An event he was not all too eager for, which left his pace slow, knowing the moment attention was no longer on him, he’d take his leave for the night.
Still, it was McCree at his side, strangers, apart from their attempts to one up each other out on the field. A worthy opponent, companion on the field, so it was with a soft exhale he chose to be the first one to speak. “You have some skill. I was not expecting such accuracy out of anyone within this place- you have proven me wrong. Have you served under Overwatch your whole life..?” It would only make sense, having seen how his brother had grown as a fighter- they make killers, men into weapons, perhaps he was just the same as Genji. // @bulletlocked
GO WHEREVER THE WIND TAKES YOU and never look back. That’s his way ( a vagabond AIMLESS ) until he succumbs and answers to the Recall. Faces new and old slowly fill the halls of Gibraltar. It’s been so long, a part of him is almost nostalgic. Man always comes back to his roots; he is no different. Duty binds him to venture back, look at Winston in the eye, and bow his head. ― ❛ Don’t think I’m ready for this family reunion. ❜ They both at least agree on that.
Every day is something he has to get used to again. Waking up surrounded by friends rather than guttersnipes after the price on his head feels so out of place. He shirks it off. ― He’s ALIVE and well, and this isn’t a feverish delusion with him dying somewhere only vultures can keep him company. ( It’s so peaceful here. ) Can’t even be bothered by the bustling lot discussing the roster of missions divided among able bodies. There, he comes across a man who’s quick to catch his eye. Hanzo Shimada. Perhaps, if a confession can be had, the gaze lingers a little longer, before he’s polite enough to exercise courtesies. He tips his hat and gives his greetings. No JUDGEMENT passes as he welcomes the infamous Shimada heir into their ragtag group.
McCree integrates himself back into the affairs of Overwatch without preamble; he seems to have spent more time around a certain archer, smirk always ready, sharp canines just barely visible behind his cigar. No one else is as dedicated when it comes to shooting practice as Hanzo. Color him i m p r e s s e d, the archer is one of the best marksmen he has had the honor of coming across ― though he isn’t to be one-upped so easily. He’s sure to make every single BULLSEYE count.
❝ Nah, just for the half of it. You’re not the only one with history, Legolas. ❞
Honesty proves to be something Hanzo has earned. Much of his life before Overwatch remains a sensitive discourse. Previous authority figures have had come across his files, but if it’s someone he has divulged his secrets to, it’s someone who he has mourned over six years prior. ❝ Not that it’s any of interest. I’m much more interested in you. ❞ Once again, he gently DEFLECTS , always painting himself as exceptionally dull compared to the rest.
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