Continued from here: [x]
@temperedtranquility
The yolk of the sun sizzles on the pan of periwinkle sky above. A breeze combs stray leaves from canopies to dance mad jigs across the training field. By all accounts it should be a lazy afternoon, but here at Overwatch, there is no such thing as rest for the weary. At least not where heroes are concerned. The crack! of a pistol shatters the autumn heat, the sound dampened beneath the pursuant clang! of a target. Atop a fencepost perch the cyborg crouches, the electric blue of his visor trained upon the firearm in the gunslinger’s hand - or, more accurately, the hand holding it, a thing of familiar form. Prompted, the cyborg frowns beneath the indiscriminate mask. Years they’ve known each other and yet Jesses’ knackfor reading a person, even without seeing the ninja’s face, never ceases to amaze; once more his observation is asspot-on as his aim. A tired old question, one Genji’s debated asking for some time now - “Your arm. What happened to it?”
Jesse had no clue why he was able to read the cyborg ninja’s thoughts every once in a while - maybe it had to do with his body language, the way he moved his form when he was curious or thinking, and maybe the Cowboy had learned to interpret some of the other’s movements the right way during the years. Whatever it was - he didn’t complain about it. Especially not when he could practicaly feel the surprise lingering on his body while Genji watched him shooting the fuck out of his beloved Peacekeeper.
A chuckle escaped his lips when he heard the question and McCree lowered his arm, rolling his shoulders as he weighted the pistol in his gloved hand - the prosthetic fingers curling slightly, probably because the Cowboy let a few memories come back up to the surface as he thought about them.
“I fucked up.” Peacekeeper was stuffed back into the holster, fingers tapping the rim of a Cowboy hat as McCree glanced over at the cyborg, offering him a small grin while stepping over and leaning his form against the nearby fence. “An’ this was the payback.”
The shiny metal reflected some of the bright sunlight as Jesse lifted his spoken-of arm, turning it a bit, stretching fingers and curling them, rolling the mechanical wrist, showing off the artificial piece of his body. “Took me som’ time to get used to it.”
