#vanctua

[apoapsis]

@vanctua​

Moira vc: You can get... 1 almond

                  “-- M-my GOODNESS! AN ENTIRE ALMOND! All to MYSELF!“

“... WHY, THANK YOU, PROFESSOR!“

[tlacehualli]

"Did you know that ever since I genetically altered my right arm, I have not had to shave my armpits, because hair doesn't grow there anymore?"

Wh-why?

It's as if the hacker has gone full on Windows bluescreen 'cause she's just staring, baffled. It takes her...a long while to finally just shake her head clear of the absolute paralysis of thought.

"Sometimes, it's not our turn to talk."

[tlacehualli]

"Dear Sombra, please have my sincerest UWUs."

She just stares at Moira suspiciously, her brows drawn into a severe frown - then slowly but surely closes the door to her room, a single magenta eye finally disappearing behind a heavy door.

"What the fuck was that?"

[tlacehualli]

"Táim uilechumhachtach!" Statement yelled louder after each drink, perhaps a bit too loud this time, leaning over sudoku-book priorly gifted to her colleague, promptly slamming down empty shotglass on the counter. "No, no, no, no, no, Sohombraah, noo, we are missi- missihing a three! THREE!" Scientist adds a nod matter-of-factly, quickly followed by reaching for the tall bottle of tequila, refilling both of their glasses. "See otherwise, the pattern… The PATTERRRRN Sohombrahaha… It breaks. Do you want it to break?"

Sombra's absolutely cackling at the geneticist's antics. Shit, finally a drinking partner that acted way more embarrassing than she ever could. Hey, she'd sing, she'd dance, she'd cry - but her diction remained absolutely perfect.

Not her brain, though. Right now, she could barely fuckin' add. "Three? Que pinche three..." It's unwise but she takes another shot before she leans over the sudoku book from across Moira, about a food shorter than her so at least they weren't gonna collide. "Fuck, gringa, we are so drunk." She can barely read the letters so she bends down further to inspect them, squinting. "Wait, shit, you're right - hang on but then this fucks up so tenemos que..."

With surprising grace, she grabs an eraser and erases three numbers in a row, replacing one with a three and rearranging the other too. "Wait. Did I fuck it? Wait no it's fine. Wait. Is it? MOIRA!"

[tlacehualli]

"Sombra. Come in here for a second, please. Join me." Doctor caught the other's attention as she was walking by Talon's staff lounge, gesturing towards the empty couch in front of her. A smile creeps up on her face as she awaits the other to be seated, promptly handing her a mug of freshly made Irish coffee — You cannot help it, can you? To twist, somewhat manipulate, sprinkle in assertiveness here and there; YOUR resolve was THEIRS, she must know, you must make her know. "I wish to thank you in your active participation in Lacroix's... condition." Hand waves in an elegant motion at the last word, eyes locking together with the other's — Expression of gratitude from Moira was rare, usually not genuine, this one was, but certainly not out of the kindness of her heart. Widowmaker was her proudest moment, proudest creation, Moira's and Moira's alone, merely a chip made with other's help — Technology akin to that one usually despised, but sometimes, it had its place too. Sombra's aid also another sign of how you could make the others dance, follow you, engage in something which obviously pained still to this day; GOOD! A sign that perhaps the little infiltrator could learn new tricks, after all. Sombra someone who danced to her own tune ( in some odd manner, not very unlike you ), it was fine, usually, but one was not always appreciative of her antics. "We could not have done it without you." She clinks mugs together, taking a big sip, humming contently— Should you add another line, sprinkle in some more makeshift 'appreciation'? Scientist leans back, hands wrapped around her mug, patiently awaiting the other's reaction. No, you think to yourself, taking another sip. If this would not do, you would remind her again tomorrow.

"Mande?"

Her voice is cold and clipped, cool; her demeanor too. It's this transition point in her life, somewhere between the wide eyed ingenue she'd been and the calculating, smirking pessimist she would become. A necessary metamorphosis.

Ah.

The confused hesitancy in her fingers when she first takes the offered mug changes for just a brief moment into something honest; a squeeze of the cup, a dangerous glint in her eyes like a wounded animal that wanted nothing more than to go for the throat to protect itself and its cubs. Was Widow her cub in this scenario?

Their cub. Fuck.

It's a brief window in her psyche that shutters closed as quickly as it comes over her; her gaze cools and becomes analytical, mirroring the geneticist's body language somewhat. Sombra knows now they're playing a game of chess and that right now, she's pinned and at a severe disadvantage. Like up until that point, she thought they'd been playing checkers instead.

So she sips at the Irish coffee, taking note of changes in tone, turns of phrase, the pleased glint in Moira's eyes. She found just as much pleasure in this manipulation as she'd taken in her creation. Sombra knows then she is a proud creature and utterly vain, above it all. Shit, right now she couldn't argue that.

The hacker swirls the drink in her mug briefly before taking a sip, then extends the claws of her circuit hand with a little click; purple hardlight begins weaving a hologram in dedicated detail, the microchip along with her hypothesis of it's connections elsewhere, along with the visor and the way it works. She's certainly no geneticist, but she was far from a dumb woman. It spins in her hands and it changes every once in a while, a product of her continuous processing of the information she was privy to.

"Hell of a thing we created there," she agreed and her electric purple gaze cuts from the hologram to the geneticist. It's dangerous again but in a much colder way. A slow smirk that one day would come as easy as breathing crosses her expression before she dismisses the hologram with an unnecessarily pretty little flourish of her fingers. She downs the rest of the Irish coffee - and why not, her tolerance had suddenly spiked as of late for some reason or another.

She grimaces. "Little easy on the cream next time. Heavier on the coffee? It's a little sweet."

[tlacehualli]

“Please. Stop talking.”

Her mouth popped open a little bit in surprise right in the middle of her rant - then her brows furrowed as she processed the abslute rudeness of it all 'cause literally who raised Moira - and then, against her will, she pouted and glowered up at the excessively tall, excessively creepy human (?) in front of her.

"Fine. See if I ever let you hang out with me again." She stuck out her tongue. It would probably take a team of psychologists, therapists, psychiatrists, neurosurgeons, and probably a roboticist to figure out why Sombra was so fucking miffed about the dismissal from a geneticist who had never been nice to her in the first place without trying to wheedle something or another out of her.

But part of her - buried way deep, deeper than she could see - still kind of wanted Moira's approval.

Her nose scrunched up and she about-faced. Whatever. Jerk.

[tlacehualli]

“How much have you had?”

She wasn't that drunk.

Was she?

The hacker's brows furrowed as she considered the question, leaning very gracefully against one of the desks in the lab. "Hmmm... Good question. I think maybe like...half?" Half a bottle went unsaid. Her own answer made her giggle and she adjusted her previous assessment. Okay, she was definitely a little lit.

"No te preocupes, I'm not gonna break anything." Sombra waved off the geneticist's concern with one hand and stayed absolutely fixed in that spot next to one of the desks lest she get close to anything important now that she was aware that she was, indeed, intoxicated.

No need to let Moira know how much though. "So, where do you grow the frogs anyway?"

[tlacehualli]

"Care for some radiation cabbage?"

She'd been in the middle of cooking when some demon had come out of nowhere asking - what the fuck did she just say? Sombra turned down the heat so she could spin around and just....stare, incredulously.

"I'm sorry. What kind of cabbage?"