MORE ARMOR!

“It will be my honor!” Paperwork is the one thing he’d run from. Reinhardt sets him down. “But I will still send the Sauerbraten.”

“Bah! It is because you are working too hard, my friend! I will take the burden from your shoulders. You must only tell me where to stand.”

“I will make sure you are fed, and I will not feed you the bugs!” Reinhardt crosses his arms. He’ll get something more than that, and that’s final! It’s his duty to protect those in need, and anything less would be forgetting that.

That’s… What a weird choice. Reinhardt doesn’t think they have that kind of ‘food’ around here. “Don’t you want a hamburger?” Or something normal? Anything? … Currywurst? During the crisis, he himself had to eat some of the least appetizing food in imagination. Nutrition paste was the best of it, and that’s saying something. Reinhardt couldn’t imagine subsiding on crickets regularly.

“A hamburger? That kinda meat can cost an arm or a leg where oi was born an’ raised. And oi don’t even know what a CurryWurst is. Ya really sure ya wanna be shellin’ out so much for a bloke ya barely know?” 

Send Truth: and ask my muse a question and they have to answer it!

“As you wish, young man.” Reinhardt sets him down once more. Sometimes it’s hard to restrain himself, so overcome with passion. “Now! What will I find for you? You stay here and I will search.”

Oh no… Reinhardt’s brows curve in sympathy. This must be a difficult life for him, it almost brings tears to his old eyes. “Yes, my friend! I will bring you something good to eat! Anything!” Lifting Junkrat once more, Reinhardt clasps him to his broad chest.

“Put me down,” he says with a shrill shriek. He doesn’t like being off the ground when its not under his own power, tensing up against Reinhardts chest.

“So you are homeless!” It’s worthless to ask why. People become homeless all the time. Death of loved ones, loss of jobs. “Why do you ask? I will do all I can, because there is none who do not deserve protection!” Reinhardt puffs out his chest proudly.

“….Might ya be willin’ ta help a bloke get a meal?” He makes himself look sheepish now, an ‘awkward’ smile spreading across his face. “Didn’t mean ta be so hostile from th’ get go, but—th’ last time a bloke grabbed me outta nowhere…well.” A glance downwards, brows pinching slightly.

“Why not?” That’s relieving, but also, Reinhardt worries they might have gotten off on the wrong foot. “I am Reinhardt! I only ask because I am worried about the people on the streets. These are not happy times, my friend.“

“….You ain’t just assuming that oi’m…” Homeless. Hold up here, just a moment.

Here was a guy who made assumptions. Who possibly thought he was starving and homeless. This could very well be an opportunity in disguise.

“….Well. 

Okay, so, no bath. But he almost looks… Homeless? Such a young man, and nowhere to live. The world is so cruel. Reinhardt sighs. “I am sorry, my friend. Do you have anything to eat? You must eat to be strong, ja?” Now that he thinks of it, Reinhardt picked him up and didn’t even ask his name first. He leans forward slightly to look at him at eye-level. “Do you have a name?”

“Oi eat! And oi’m strong, ya appearance-judgin’ nitwit!” 

Hostile is how the Junker is acting, and he pokes Reinhardt in the chest as he insults him, the metal, orange-colored digit digging into the fabric.

“Hmm! You should be nice to your elders, young man.” It’s hard to discern exactly what he’s saying, but he seems mad. Reinhardt does as he wishes and sets him back down gently. What an… interesting individual. He takes his hand away to see that his fingers are coated in grease. Hopefully, it’s just grease. “Do you not want a bath?”

As soon as his feet touch the ground, he’s hopping backward, bristling like some kind of cat might do when it’s been confronted in a manner it doesn’t like.

“Oh, sure. Lecture me on behavior, when ya been up in me personal space, physically assaultin’ a bloke by touchin’ the merchandise without permission.”

Reinhardt gasps. “You are so tall, but… Why do you not eat?!” With a bit of effort, he lifts the very grimy man by his armpits. If he were wearing his armor, Reinhardt would dwarf him even further, but it’s hard to find someone as close as this one is.

That smell! Does he eat oil instead?

What. The actual.

Fuck.

A guy can’t plan his next heist, without getting picked up by a taller, massive guy, right up off the street, as if he weighed little more than a paper doll. His expression is one of severe irritation, and after he gets past the initial offended shock, Junkrat begins to swing his legs, kicking at what he can reach.