cherchez la femme

Rendez-vous avec la mort|Widowmaker|33|Talon INDEPENDENT,SELECTIVE, 18+

[reaperator-blog]

dangereuxdame

Her cigarette promptly went back between her lips, her phone back into her pocket, and she turned her head slightly acknowledging that he’d spoke. So he hadn’t left. Some part of her was grateful for that, not that she’d admit to it.

“Non.” She replied, once again holding the white stick between her fingers. At first, she’d been content with the idea of having time off, but now she began to grow restless. Her reactions to the events of last night had made her doubt herself and her stability and she knew only work would sufficiently distract her. Unfortunately, she was out of luck, and there was no telling how long they would be out.

Turning, she came to rest her back against the rails, looking back to face him. Around her neck, there was faint bruising which she’d noticed when she awoke, reminding her that what happened the night before had actually happened and not one of her vivid dreams. It renewed her sense of distrust that had formed, and her eyes narrowed in on him as she furrowed her brow. Their relationship was a mystery, especially to her. She remembered what it was like to feel, but had trouble assigning emotions to whatever glimpses Widowmaker got. He brought about several feelings she couldn’t place.

Both of them seemed to be aware of the odd energy between them, as they’d been avoiding seeing each other outside of missions before the attack on their base. The way he’d pushed her last night added yet another layer of complexity that Widowmaker was unprepared to deal with.

She picked up the pack of cigarettes she’d brought with her, contemplating offering one to him as she idly toyed with the box. The sniper had no desire to make small talk with him but she too had little to say otherwise.

“I expect it will be a few days before we have a status update.” Talon had never taken a hit this big. It would take time for them to recover, much to her annoyance.

“You are welcome to stay,” she reiterated, “as long as you continue to behave yourself.”

The offer was not confusing to him, if only because it made it easier to accept when the person making the offer couldn’t do so out of pity, or other flimsy reasoning. Which was, in turn, an easier reality to face than the fact that he actually had nowhere else to go. He remained silent for a moment, arms folded loosely across his chest. An action which felt less petulant without the skeletal owl visage to hide behind. “I honestly don’t know what that means to you” Gabriel said, neither amused nor disappointed. Simply pointing it out. But it was an agreement, for the most part. His eyes moving to meet the spider’s as she turned to face him, the smoke unfurling around her. Only briefly observing the faint marks around her neck, before looking back to her eyes. Lingering for a few silent seconds before looking up above her instead, squinting into the early morning light before his gaze was forced away again. Unsure of where else to look, he twisted over his shoulder briefly, looking back into the mansion in concentration. “The whole armory was taken apart. That’s all I know” he added, almost an afterthought, without the concern that it likely warranted. The thought of lurking around the house of a deadly woman for days was more pressing to him in the moment, particularly one he had lost the trust of under the same roof.  Observing white covering cloths, paint and other tools left in situ during the renovation process, he turned back to face Widowmaker. “I could, uhh. Help out with your house” he offered. After a brief pause adding, “seems like a fair trade.”

[dangereuxdame]

“For starters, keep your hands to yourself.” She took in another deep breath of smoke. “I would prefer if my guests did not actively try to harm me.” Regardless of his reasonings, he still attacked her, and while she was willing to let it go, she would not forget, nor be so forgiving should it happen again.

“They attacked the armory, our aircraft, they hacked our servers... an attack of this magnitude is nothing to take lightly.” She took one last look out over the water, scanning the tree line, before beginning to move towards the door. Talon had no record of this home, therefore it was unlikely their enemies had any knowledge of it. It was secluded, presumed abandoned by most, and most likely the safest place in France for the two agents to be hiding out.

Her path came to a halt when he suggested helping with the renovations. He didn’t really seem like the ‘fix it’ type, but if he wanted to help she wouldn’t object. “Oui. Most of the structural work has been done, but it still requires a few repairs.. it certainly needs cleaned.” She’d been hiring people to do this, but with everything going on she had no intention of bringing anyone else to the manor until things were resolved.

“Do as much as you want. You will find most everything in the basement.” Wood, stone, all the necessary materials had been acquired early on. He could decide what he was up for. Besides, giving orders to him would be unusual. It was typically the other way around.

With that, she continued to head inside. She hadn’t had a chance to check if her own laptop had been compromised, nor had she looked to see if the attack was a military operation that would potentially make news headlines. With radio silence on Talon’s end, she had to look for answers elsewhere, or at least find something to keep her busy. “I will be in my office. Knock if you need me.”

[almostwatch]

Talon Team Building Retreat

Doomfist: Alright everyone for this next activity we are going to partake in an escape room.

Widowmaker: I refuse to be locked in a room with any one of these individuals.

Moira: child’s play, we’ll be out of the room and done with this godforsaken “retreat” within the hour.

Sombra: soooooo, what happens if we don’t get out of the room in time?

Doomfist: The only logical answer is that we will all die instantly.

Reaper: oh thank god.

[soupsane]

Anato Finnstark  [Artstation]

[evilwvergil]

“concept arts” : 奪命女 Widowmaker ↳ オーバーウォッチ OVERWATCH

[catchymemes]

[barstool-fujo]

OW moodboards (s): Widowreaper (Amélie Lacroix/Gabriel Reyes).

Let me see you Stripped down to the bone Let me see you Stripped down to the bone Metropolis Has nothing on this You’re breathing in fumes I taste when we kiss

Depeche Mode — Stripped.

[reaperator-blog]

dangereuxdame

While he walked away, she lingered in the hallway, staring down at the cold stone floor beneath her. As usual, she didn’t feel the temperature on the bare skin of her feet. It was one part of her reconditioning that had yet to fail her.

One of her hands came up, pulling the visor free from her head while the other ran through her violet hair before finally she decided to return to her bedroom. Sleep was seldom something she required, but tonight she would find it, only after she secured the locks on her doors and windows, and then checked them all once more.

Come early morning, she would emerge and make her way to one of the balconies on the other side of the manor from the courtyard where the two Talon agents spent the previous night. She lit up a cigarette as the sunlight began to creep through the trees in the east, leaning forward to rest her forearms on the railing in front of her. It was a habit of Amelie’s that she still would occasionally visit when the mood struck, and after the stress of yesterday the mood had definitely struck.

A sigh of smoke left her lips and her eyes, ever so slightly bloodshot, gazed out at the water that had begun to glisten gold with the sun. Once again, she had returned to her numbness. Her body and mind were now settled, after all, the years Talon spent rewiring every piece of her were not in vain. All it took was a bit of down time before it resumed its control over the Widow.

She glanced behind her, briefly wondering where in her home the Reaper had wandered off to. Had he stayed? She wasn’t sure. He was unpredictable, as he’d displayed hours prior. She reached into her back pocket, pulling out her phone to check for any communications or anything to alert her to the status of their agency. She felt what she assumed was likely relief when she found that there were no updates, their internal line still disconnected for now.

He had slept in the room he had left his belongings in. An undisturbed few hours without the invasion of consciousness, brought on in part by the poison he had inhaled. He returned to the land of the living calmly, quietly, before gasping for breath and clawing at his throat. Physical manipulations aside, breathing had never been the same since the explosion in Zürich, and the poison had exasperated that without doubt.The effects did not last long, but it would likely be uncomfortable for a while. Fitting, considering his current circumstances. Without anything specific to leave the room for, he remained there in silent stillness. It was only when the smell of tar and nicotine laden smoke wove through the air that his senses returned more keenly to the environment around him. It did not remind him of the memory of Amélie specifically, but of other people he had known, the French members amongst the teams of Overwatch, an intelligence officer from his covert unit, most all of the serving military he had known. Himself, his old habits. The fragments of memory did not last, but his state of alertness did, eventually calling him beyond the confines of the otherwise comfortable guest room and to the escape pack he had assembled months earlier. He rarely lingered in day light out of choice, early or otherwise, but a few notions lead him outside. The practical elements of his coat were of no current use, and so he dressed only in the black pants and grey shirt he had long ago decided was a discreet enough alternative. His feet remained uncovered, padding across the cool cobblestone floor without concern. It was only somewhat easier to breathe through what temporarily felt like scorched air passages without his, but it was enough for him not to care to remain hidden, and so his face remained uncovered as well. The areas around his eyes didn’t feel as bad as they looked, the deep grey space around his eyes taking on gradual, deeper purple bruised tones from within. After effects of poison that had not managed to do any long term damage to his body, but had affected it nonetheless. Where his skin had once hungrily absorbed the sun, retaining deep golden hues and youthful vibrancy long after he had outgrown it, his colour had since faded into shades of ash, as if no longer able to retain life as it once had. He knew of today’s addition only in passing a reflective surface on his way through the manor - he made no effort to look in mirrors anymore. She was unsurprisingly the source of the scent, which he did not follow and yet ended up at all the same. While he was not intending to be stealthy, his bare feet made little sound as he crossed the stone, coming to lean against the base of the statue where they had sat previously, arms crossed and watching across what he could see of the water. Not directly in her sight should she turn around, but not hiding either. Not directly watching her figure against the railing, yet noticing the movement as she checked her phone. “Still nothing?” he asked, his voice without malice or threat, but otherwise unchanged from usual. Giving no indication that anything was amiss between them. He didn’t particularly want to strike up a conversation with the spider, but figured it polite to at least indicate that he was still present in her home.

[dangereuxdame]

Her cigarette promptly went back between her lips, her phone back into her pocket, and she turned her head slightly acknowledging that he’d spoke. So he hadn’t left. Some part of her was grateful for that, not that she’d admit to it.

“Non.” She replied, once again holding the white stick between her fingers. At first, she’d been content with the idea of having time off, but now she began to grow restless. Her reactions to the events of last night had made her doubt herself and her stability and she knew only work would sufficiently distract her. Unfortunately, she was out of luck, and there was no telling how long they would be out.

Turning, she came to rest her back against the rails, looking back to face him. Around her neck, there was faint bruising which she’d noticed when she awoke, reminding her that what happened the night before had actually happened and not one of her vivid dreams. It renewed her sense of distrust that had formed, and her eyes narrowed in on him as she furrowed her brow. Their relationship was a mystery, especially to her. She remembered what it was like to feel, but had trouble assigning emotions to whatever glimpses Widowmaker got. He brought about several feelings she couldn’t place.

Both of them seemed to be aware of the odd energy between them, as they’d been avoiding seeing each other outside of missions before the attack on their base. The way he’d pushed her last night added yet another layer of complexity that Widowmaker was unprepared to deal with.

She picked up the pack of cigarettes she’d brought with her, contemplating offering one to him as she idly toyed with the box. The sniper had no desire to make small talk with him but she too had little to say otherwise.

“I expect it will be a few days before we have a status update.” Talon had never taken a hit this big. It would take time for them to recover, much to her annoyance.

“You are welcome to stay,” she reiterated, “as long as you continue to behave yourself.”

[andantegrazioso-deactivated2018]

Perfect harmony | karina_zhitkova

[raviollies]

Vices

[fresherbrine]

[reaperator-blog]

dangereuxdame

This time, she didn’t react to his movements, too concerned with what was happening with her own self to pay much attention to where he was. There was so much to be sorry for, it was difficult for her to pin the words to just one thing. She was sorry for the life she took from Gerard, the grief she’d caused, the toll that their somewhat similar situations took upon them.

Her head hung low as she turned, pressing her full back against the wall now. There were few things she could say she truly hated now, and one of them was feeling this way. The Widow’s reconditioning had a weak spot for her former self and her husband, and she tried to avoid tempting that side as much as possible. It proved difficult at times.

“You are right. That is bullshit.” Her voice reflected a certain exhaustion, both physically and mentally. She’d have to visit O’Deorain when order was restored within Talon.. another thing she hated. “Most days I do not know what is me and what is programmed.”

The pain in her chest began to lessen into a dull ache and slowly she began to recompose herself. She straightened her posture, stepping aside and looking back to her room. Her interest in speaking of such matters was dwindling. Speaking of Talon in any manner was not something she wished to engage in, she never felt truly safe from their gaze. “I need to rest..”

As her back lined against the wall behind her, he backed off. Disengaging completely with the shift in dynamic, intending now only to fall back to the shadows. He didn’t do so immediately, watching as he listened to her words. Having already expended all of his, he instead only nodded once in acknowledgement. Straightening for the most part in reaction, before retreating backwards towards the stairs, turning away from the woman to disappear from sight. 

The feeling did not last. Fading eventually into a slow burn that spread through his chest in it’s place, moving like a wave as he walked silently away. Painful thoughts activating neurons, without aggravating any deeper memories around them. The pain of remorse passing through him, but failing to gain any further traction. He was distinctly aware of how much he would have preferred to join her in the cellar instead. Within a moment, he felt nothing.

He stepped off the last of the stairs, no longer making efforts to quieten his movements once back on the lower level of the manor. Similar feelings of regret reaching out to him, but none of them securing a reaction from him. He left her sight, heading in the direction of the unoccupied rooms.

[dangereuxdame]

While he walked away, she lingered in the hallway, staring down at the cold stone floor beneath her. As usual, she didn’t feel the temperature on the bare skin of her feet. It was one part of her reconditioning that had yet to fail her.

One of her hands came up, pulling the visor free from her head while the other ran through her violet hair before finally she decided to return to her bedroom. Sleep was seldom something she required, but tonight she would find it, only after she secured the locks on her doors and windows, and then checked them all once more.

Come early morning, she would emerge and make her way to one of the balconies on the other side of the manor from the courtyard where the two Talon agents spent the previous night. She lit up a cigarette as the sunlight began to creep through the trees in the east, leaning forward to rest her forearms on the railing in front of her. It was a habit of Amelie’s that she still would occasionally visit when the mood struck, and after the stress of yesterday the mood had definitely struck.

A sigh of smoke left her lips and her eyes, ever so slightly bloodshot, gazed out at the water that had begun to glisten gold with the sun. Once again, she had returned to her numbness. Her body and mind were now settled, after all, the years Talon spent rewiring every piece of her were not in vain. All it took was a bit of down time before it resumed its control over the Widow.

She glanced behind her, briefly wondering where in her home the Reaper had wandered off to. Had he stayed? She wasn’t sure. He was unpredictable, as he’d displayed hours prior. She reached into her back pocket, pulling out her phone to check for any communications or anything to alert her to the status of their agency. She felt what she assumed was likely relief when she found that there were no updates, their internal line still disconnected for now.

[reaperator-blog]

dangereuxdame

Her rifle lowered as he laughed, her face finally showing the irritated look she’d supressed thus far. This was unnecessary, and she was sure he knew it, but still he decided to try and push her, to see what he could pull out by force rather that words. She wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t ever really great with words, but that didn’t lessen her annoyance.

She propped her gun up against her shoulder, her gaze still remaining locked on the Reaper making it clear she still did not trust him fully to not make another move.

When he continued to speak, the mention of this husband and wife finally caused Widowmaker’s face to twist up into an unreadable but visible expression. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and she opened her mouth to speak but words failed to come out. She moved, her rifle falling to her side and her shoulder coming to rest on the wall as her eyes fell onto the floor.

*Gerard*

A slow deep breath that resulted in her own sigh was an attempt to steady the breathing that threatened to further give away that she *felt* something. He made Gabriel promise to protect her, should anything happen to him.. how ironic that his death came by her own hand. She swallowed hard. Gerard wanted to ensure her safety, not that she really needed protection now, and the thought brought a stinging pain to her chest. Her hand came up, pushing between her rib cage in an attempt to get it to stop.

“I-“ She wasn’t sure what to say. Alive was not a term she would use to describe whatever she is now, but still there were things that made her feel somewhat like she was living. Killing, sometimes drinking, her memories of Gerard.. The spider felt weakened, and her voice reflected that when she finally found her words:

“Je suis désolée..” I’m sorry.

Silence fell in the manor, between and around them. He moved out of the shadows on instinct, a couple of feet forward, towards her. Unsure if he was compelled to do so at the sight of the spider’s reactions, or in response the gripping feeling near his lungs. Coming to a halt once he comprehended that he was doing so. No longer veiled by the darkness, but not invading her space again. “You didn’t give the order” he said quietly, yet otherwise without any more emotion than before. Ignoring how the words increased the intensity of the sensation in his chest, as if whatever had taken a hold in there was now digging it’s nails in. Wanting but failing to share that she had nothing to be sorry for, knowing that is was not a fair statement. Not wanting to share that he was sorry as well. His intentions had not explicitly been to provoke these reactions out of her, if only because he did not view them in such terms. What remained of him was what had survived a war against indiscriminate enemies, and then leveraged further against forces far greater than his own, with intentions more horrifying than he had ever been able to entirely comprehend.

“A doctor tried telling me once that we have total control over our own lives. That we can’t be made to do or feel anything without our permission.” He unfurled his fingers from his palm slowly, not trying to hide the action, leaving his palm exposed as his arm remained by his side. “It’s bullshit. And you don’t need anyone protecting you.” He turned the words over in his mind before continuing. “But I can stop anything from protecting them.”

[dangereuxdame]

This time, she didn’t react to his movements, too concerned with what was happening with her own self to pay much attention to where he was. There was so much to be sorry for, it was difficult for her to pin the words to just one thing. She was sorry for the life she took from Gerard, the grief she’d caused, the toll that their somewhat similar situations took upon them.

Her head hung low as she turned, pressing her full back against the wall now. There were few things she could say she truly hated now, and one of them was feeling this way. The Widow’s reconditioning had a weak spot for her former self and her husband, and she tried to avoid tempting that side as much as possible. It proved difficult at times.

“You are right. That is bullshit.” Her voice reflected a certain exhaustion, both physically and mentally. She’d have to visit O’Deorain when order was restored within Talon.. another thing she hated. “Most days I do not know what is me and what is programmed.”

The pain in her chest began to lessen into a dull ache and slowly she began to recompose herself. She straightened her posture, stepping aside and looking back to her room. Her interest in speaking of such matters was dwindling. Speaking of Talon in any manner was not something she wished to engage in, she never felt truly safe from their gaze. “I need to rest..”

[cityslickercos-moved]

le bleu n'est pas votre couleur.

Fuck waiting for lore ill make my own, enjoy the probably bad french

[reaperator-blog]

dangereuxdame

The sniper stopped in her tracks, visor obscuring her face and hiding any expression, if there was one. Standing in the hall, she made sure to maintain enough distance between them that would allow her to still take a leathal shot should he move towards her in any way she didn’t like. As he spoke again, things started to click.

“Are you testing me?”

Moira was typically the only one who really pried into her mental “stability,” and she couldn’t decipher his true intentions behind it. It seemed like he wanted to see what was left of Amelie.. but why? Her jaw clenched. She never spoke of any of the doubts in her reconditioning, the remnants of the former dancer within her, and the pain that would occasionally break through at the memory of Gerard. Regardless, attacking her was not the way to get her to open up.

“I am not discussing this with you.” She deactivated her visor, the red lights fading as they retracted from her face. “Are we done? Or are you going to try to attack me again?” He tried to get a rise out of her and, although he didn’t really know it, he’d somewhat succeed. Feelings had begun to bubble up. She was irritated, angry, and although they were not intense, she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Amelie is dead.” She said through gritted teeth. “You are wasting your time.”

He laughed. It didn’t sound like the cheerful, affable man that had once inhabited the same body, but it wasn’t threatening or intimidating either. If anything it sounded hollow, as if resigned to it’s fate. “Of course I am” he responded, words partially drawn out as usual, but otherwise sincere. “And of course she is.”

He watched her. Not in examination, but out of curiosity. While he was vaguely aware that he had crossed a line in what was already a tenuous friendship, he didn’t view it in such terms. Merely as objective and outcome, based on feelings he could not describe. It was simply who he was, what he had become. In many ways, all that he had left.

As she deactivated her visor he sighed quietly, the temporary, slight slump of his shoulders the most obvious indication of it. He didn’t move otherwise, although his body did not remain rigid. The reaper was perfectly comfortable where he was.

“I made a promise to a friend that I would look after his wife if anything happened to him. Doesn’t mean a whole lot now, because no part of that survived.” “But you,” his head inclined slightly to the right, “are alive.” Returning after a brief pause, adding “or so I thought.”

[dangereuxdame]

Her rifle lowered as he laughed, her face finally showing the irritated look she’d supressed thus far. This was unnecessary, and she was sure he knew it, but still he decided to try and push her, to see what he could pull out by force rather that words. She wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t ever really great with words, but that didn’t lessen her annoyance.

She propped her gun up against her shoulder, her gaze still remaining locked on the Reaper making it clear she still did not trust him fully to not make another move.

When he continued to speak, the mention of this husband and wife finally caused Widowmaker’s face to twist up into an unreadable but visible expression. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and she opened her mouth to speak but words failed to come out. She moved, her rifle falling to her side and her shoulder coming to rest on the wall as her eyes fell onto the floor.

*Gerard*

A slow deep breath that resulted in her own sigh was an attempt to steady the breathing that threatened to further give away that she *felt* something. He made Gabriel promise to protect her, should anything happen to him.. how ironic that his death came by her own hand. She swallowed hard. Gerard wanted to ensure her safety, not that she really needed protection now, and the thought brought a stinging pain to her chest. Her hand came up, pushing between her rib cage in an attempt to get it to stop.

“I-“ She wasn’t sure what to say. Alive was not a term she would use to describe whatever she is now, but still there were things that made her feel somewhat like she was living. Killing, sometimes drinking, her memories of Gerard.. The spider felt weakened, and her voice reflected that when she finally found her words:

“Je suis désolée..” I’m sorry.

[incorrect-overwatch-quotes]

Sombra: Ok, we need a plan. Anyone have any ideas?

Widowmaker and Reaper: *raise hands*

Sombra: That don’t involve murder.

Widowmaker and Reaper: *lower hands*

submitted by twisted-thinker

[tranquies-blog]

“I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.”

— Lewis Caroll (via naturaekos)

[reaperator-blog]

dangereuxdame

She noted that he didn’t follow her, and that put her back on edge. He could move fast in his wraith form, but she could move near silently, and even a ghost couldn’t follow what it couldn’t find. Her back stayed close against the wall, breathing slow, eyes darting back and forth until she finally came up the hall to her bedroom. Carefully she turned the door knob, ensuring that it wouldn’t make any noise as she opened it, then slipping inside.

Widow’s Kiss laid propped against her nightstand in its case, her visor still sitting on her bed where she’d discarded it earlier when they’d arrived. Activating it as she slipped it on, she looked to scan the halls outside for any sign of Reaper while she opened the fastenings on her case. Her gaze locked on his figure that lingered by the stairs, rising to her feet with gun in hand. She moved towards the door.

“What are you talking about? Who is dead?” She hissed, the stark red lights of her visor appearing down the hallway. “And what is it exactly that you are hoping to accomplish?” Widowmaker’s patience had begun to wear thin.

“You attack me in my own home, and now you think I want to play whatever game this is?” Her glowing eyes moved slowly towards him, rifle aimed and a slim pale finger on the trigger. Her grip tightened, “did you have anything to do with the attack on Talon?”

He feels her gaze before hearing her words. It had often sparked the hint of a thrill, watching her prey be lined up behind the scope of her rifle, on the few times he had seen the the exchange. He did not stop to consider if their long dead opponents had felt the same electricity beneath their skin, dark sparks along their spines in the precious moments before their end. He was marked for death - of that, he had no doubt. His lips curled upwards behind the mask.

The face of the reaper turned to her bedroom door, head inclining briefly to the side, watching what he could not physically see. He did not panic. A spider is alerted if something disturbs it’s web. It is only once something is caught within it that their attention is captured completely.

“I’m not responsible for that” he started, without emotion, addressing her last question. He ignored the rest, head straightening, remaining in stillness.

He didn’t move. Not for fear of death, but out of the knowledge that it may finally catch up to him regardless. His time at the manor was already more than he was used to speaking in some time. He struggled to put words to thoughts or intentions, but continued trying regardless.

“And I don’t know how much Talon are responsible for taking from you. Figured it was just about everything” he stated, and while his voice still sounded rough, the menacing edges were gone. With nobody to hear them, no communication networks available to discern their discussion without their knowledge, he completed the sentiment out loud for the first time.

“But I think we both know that’s not the case.” He continued to watch, unseeing and still. “They don’t ever need to know.”

[dangereuxdame]

The sniper stopped in her tracks, visor obscuring her face and hiding any expression, if there was one. Standing in the hall, she made sure to maintain enough distance between them that would allow her to still take a leathal shot should he move towards her in any way she didn’t like. As he spoke again, things started to click.

“Are you testing me?”

Moira was typically the only one who really pried into her mental “stability,” and she couldn’t decipher his true intentions behind it. It seemed like he wanted to see what was left of Amelie.. but why? Her jaw clenched. She never spoke of any of the doubts in her reconditioning, the remnants of the former dancer within her, and the pain that would occasionally break through at the memory of Gerard. Regardless, attacking her was not the way to get her to open up.

“I am not discussing this with you.” She deactivated her visor, the red lights fading as they retracted from her face. “Are we done? Or are you going to try to attack me again?” He tried to get a rise out of her and, although he didn’t really know it, he’d somewhat succeed. Feelings had begun to bubble up. She was irritated, angry, and although they were not intense, she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Amelie is dead.” She said through gritted teeth. “You are wasting your time.”