To heal is the h i g h e s t calling

-

“That is a relief. I do not want to leave the others without my assistance.for too long.” Genji responded, giving Angela a grateful nod.

“No, I operated on the side of caution this time. It seems Talon has their own swordsman in their midst. He was…formidable. Though thankfully, he did not injure me as badly as I was able to injure him.” Genji muses, wincing a little as the peroxide touched his wounds. “He will likely be out of action for much longer than I will.”

“I think your aid is more than worth the wait.” Angela mused, though it pained her to hear he was so eager to get back into the fray. 

“A new swordsman?” Angela repeated, brows furrowing as she tries to recall any such gossip or official talk on a new recruit in Talon’s ranks, though she comes up blank; the one downside to how busy she keeps herself in the medbay. 

-

         “Those who think they know me would like t’say that, yes.”He reached for a bottle of some mysterious liquid off of the bar behind him, leaning back against it as he took a swig. “But I’d say I’m th’most handsome obnoxious drunkard.”

         “I kid ‘ou not, a Skag will most certainly offer better advice. Though, t’ain’t much better than a bottle of the good stuff.” Zane raised the bottle in her direction, smirking. “A toast, to the newcomer hoping for glory?” 

          It was great to have someone fresh to dick around with. Though, too far, and he may very well chase her off - but also that meant she didn’t have it in her to work here, much less with him of all people. The others of his current team learned to tolerate him, or even tone him out if they weren’t to be bothered. Once in a blue moon, they’ll join his odd endevours. Make it a competition of sorts, just to have some fun.

         “’ou’re welcome t’leave, missy. If y’ain’t got the patience to show yer grit in the field, since ‘ou’re so inclined to fighting with the handsome bastard in a bar.”

"I am afraid if I drink, I'll wake up tomorrow with all of my gear missing because you took it in the night." Still, Angela took a bottle from the counter, taking a moment to open it. She didn't trust anyone as far as she could throw them.

"A toast, to Vault Hunting, and all the....questionable people it draws in."

"Please," Angela quirked a brow. "We are fighting? I would have diverted two percent effort towards you if I had known that were the case."

- 

To be honest, he often found himself worrying for the doctor’s sake, what with her tendencies to overexert herself with work. Well, not like he’s one to talk, guilty of overdoing it during training and missions himself. The amount of caffeine they’d typically indulge in may not be the best practice, but at the very least, Angela would be able to take her mind off work during their talks. Even if for just a moment.

A light chuckle escaped him upon seeing her enthusiasm, playing along by raising both hands. “In my defense, I only perfected it during my training with the Shambali. Now it is truly worthy to be shared.”

Genji looked towards her then. “How bittersweet of a death that would be…” He mused, voice getting a notch lower as he continued. “But at the cost of your life– You know I would have to beat you to that first sip.” And he meant that. To not be entirely human, such a risk he could afford to take.

Angela gave a playful glare at the cyborg for a few moments before laughing and lightly patting his forearm. “You are lucky I like you, otherwise I may not be so merciful. I will forgive you hiding away your secret tea, this time.” 

It was always nice to spend time with Genji, besides the fact that he was delightful company, Angela knew she could be relaxed around him, even make a few bad jokes and not worry about how silly she sounded. 

Angela fell silent for a moment, she had been joking when she’d talked of a ‘death by coffee’, not that it truly seemed unappealing if she had to go, but the way Genji’s voice had lowered gave her concern. 

“You can try,” She kept her voice light, joking. “But you know how I am when people try to get between me and a source of caffeine. I’m not even sure you could wrest it from me.” Her expression softened, “But if it means missing out on these lovely talks, and giving you a hard time, then no death-inducing coffee for either of us.” 

-

his head rings with the percussive blasts that by now, he should be used to. it’s never an easy fight when it comes to caesar’s rabid dogs, but he does, in the end, make it through. most of the time. he’s still anticipating the day they wisen up and finally ambush him while his pants are down, btu today is not that day. and he’s just a little thankful for it. 

he looks back at the doctor speaks and inhales briefly before adjusting his braced position and stepping back, his arm disappearing beneath the fabric once again as his other hand dips underneath and begins the secretive act of repair and reset. he winces visibly has he looks over the corpses left in their brief, destructive wake. “ truth be told, i think i’m fine ” he says, scanning the ground once, twice to look for the smoldering cigarette he’d dropped in the action, picking it up and popping it back in between his lips. 

“ apologies you got mixed up in that – thought the kings would have my back after that last favor, but… well. it was a few years ago, weren’t it? ”

his smile is crooked, charming even despite the splatter. something hisses and releases under the poncho, and he lets out a relieved sigh. 

“ but, y’know… be my guest. i don’t feel nothin’ but that’s…. turned out bad before ”

Angela’s heard that line before, time and time again. Most of her patients seem to forget adrenaline is a hell of a drug--though she knows there are few that really delve into medicine as deeply as herself and fellow Followers. 

“It never hurts to be certain.” She comments. The last thing she wants is her negligence to be the reason someone finds a certain enigma of a man bleeding out in the backstreets of Freeside. 

She grimaces when he retrieves the cigarette, not the worst or most disgusting act she’s seen by far, but it’s the cigarette itself she has issues with. 

“I think the Kings are still having issues with the NCR and now that Legion is making a move...” Angela sighs, “Now is the time to be banding together instead of tearing each other apart while Caesar takes advantage of the infighting.” Not that anyone cares what she has to think politically, most denizens of Freeside don’t even care what she has to say medically. 

The slight smile the doctor gives to return his own shifts to concern as she hears a hiss. A weapon, perhaps? Though the weapon he used shouldn’t make such a noise. The doctor eyes him for a moment, really taking in his appearance now that Legion isn’t breathing down their necks and actively trying to end him. 

“This isn’t the part where I help patch you up and you make some dramatic reveal that you were actually Legion the whole time, is it?” She questions, her tone a tad blithe. At this point in time such a thing wouldn’t genuinely surprise her, might as well meet it without fear. 

“Here, sit down and I’ll take a better look at you, no point in standing when you don’t have to.” She motions to a spot. 

-

          “Luck doesn’t discredit skill. Not all the time.” It was a relief however, that she now suspected him less of being anything more than a vigilante among their ranks. 

          Manners didn’t have a place in his line of work these days. He gave them up, let his sociability die with the Strike Commander. What was he to do, ask nicely for those around him to get out of his way, please Talon vanish from the face of the earth? And he wasn’t about to play change of face for those he conceded to work with. They all got the same treatment. Even her. Lest his hidden nature revealed; she would probably find him far more familiar if he toted the same kindness the Commander once had. 

           He didn’t react with much more than a derisive snort, before leaning back on his hands to rest from the more stiff posture he’d upheld. It had been a while since he’d been able to relax, mentally. Even since joining the Recall.

"My skills lie with medicine, not combat." Angela retorted. "Really, I would rather not have to know or use combat maneuvers at all." She murmured as she picked out another piece of the visor from his cheek.

The doctor's brows furrowed as he leaned back to sit more comfortably. Was he making it harder for her on purpose? With their strained relationship, if one could even called it that, she wouldn't have been surprised.

The doctor leaned in closer to him, leaving their faces only inches apart as one hand moved to his cheek to tilt his head up ever so slightly, as to look over his exposed face in better lighting. She gave a soft huff at his snort, breath likely tickling the unmasked portion of his face.

-

                     “A man can dream. Can strive.” He strove for his idea, that was for certain. Though some days it was more obvious to him how unattainable the concept he described was, how unrealistic. 

                “Perhaps.” he paused, closing his eyes with a defeated sigh. He really was exhausted, but there was so much left he needed to do. Missions to carry out, to direct. People to bring to justice for the destruction of the home he had found within the ranks of Overwatch. The death of innocents. And the years of terrorism that followed. “But I wouldn’t do that to you. Not again. And I’m sorry I suggested it.”

"You know such dreams are unattainble--not to try and depress you, but...I do not want to see you get hurt while attempting to save the world by yourself. You are only human, you have to rest now and again."

-

There’s a hum as he laid his head back down to the cold floor. He rose his hand to the air and waved dismissively before he let it fall limp onto him. “ Not gon’ lie, lost me at ‘ nothin’ alcoholic ’. ” He stayed quiet for a moment before he sighed. “ … A coffee would be nice, though. ”

He sat up, not much bothering with putting his hat on just yet. The cowboy’s gaze stayed on the doctor before him. “ I reckon y’got no work, or y’ just takin’ a break ? ” He’s steering the conversation as much as he can – he doesn’t like talking too much about his worries.

"I'll get you a coffee, but only if you tell me what has you laying down like this." On the ground. Where she'd initially thought he was hurt--or worse. She should have realized it was just McCree being...well, McCree.

-

          “I’m not sure, though I’m glad you consider yourself lucky for it.”

          “If whatever my life has become is a path to be found…” He leaned against the table they sat beside, hand not leaving her face for a second. “…then I suppose? Though I still have doubts of the width of any path of mine.” Jack chuckled, shaking his head with a sigh that held a tinge of sadness. Maybe frustration. He wished for no more than than to be able to protect her. But he couldn’t do that very well when she insisted on being glued to his hip.

“Well if it’s not, don’t worry, I’ve brought a snow shovel and I’m ready to carve my own path. Wanted or not.” She was not going to be gotten rid of that easily. If there was one thing Angela was known for--other than her prowess in the field of medicine--it was just how frustratingly stubborn she was. 

- 

          “I’ve never tried it before, you tell me.” A smirk. He knew he’d taken her off guard, despite both being well aware of how the other felt. At least, that was assumed. After a while he didn’t exactly hide it. And he could often read her, easily. Jack smirked when she averted her gaze, brushing a finger across her cheek. “It is true though. I was lost before, amidst my mission for vengeance.” 

Angela rolled her eyes, though a good deal of it was a front. “And how did I get so lucky to be the first one to hear it?” She teased, though her sarcastic words were opposed to the way she leaned her head into his touch. When was the last time they’d actually been close and not been arguing or focused on an Overwatch related task?