To anyone else, perhaps anyone with morals, following a stranger on the streets was unacceptable at best, sinister at worst. Widowmaker didn’t really care, as she only performed a job - there were no social ties or manners linked to her duty. Find the target, take them out, get that brief rush of feeling alive, her heart was beating - and then return for the next assignment.
This man was not a target - not officially, at least. A target of interest, most certainly. The way he carried himself and remained poised reminded her of the same training she had undergone to be the perfect assassin. Her gaze was focused on the rifle the man carried with him. It didn’t hold the same elegance of her Widow’s Kiss, but the garbage would have to do.
Footsteps were silent as she waited for the perfect moment to strike. Incapacitate him, take the weapon, disappear without a trace. She had done far more difficult things, but she didn’t account for the fact that the citizens in this city were complete idiots.
Idiots tripping over their own feet - in this case, her feet, making a loud ruckus that had given away her position immediately. “Tu es complemente débile!” She snarled, finding minor amusement in the way the woman scrambled away, terrified. A complete moron.
Widowmaker slowly turned her gaze upright towards where the man was, perhaps staring because of the noise. “Beautiful day, non?” She was getting some sort of sick pleasure out of this.
