Singh wasn't the one to openly reject a request from his strike commander but what Morrison was asking from him truly was a lot.

Protect one of the most vital agents of Overwatch. While he went on a ball. In Vienna. Great. Now first things first, he wasn't actually good around high society and despised of the overly rich people. Secondly, he wasn't really familiar with bodyguarding and all. Thirdly, there was also no way he couldn't agree on doing it because otherwise he would never get that promotion he worked so hard on.

He figured it wouldn't be as bad, he just had to dress up like the rest of fine folks there and make sure nobody died. Especially not Lacroix.

Now, there was the significantly harder part to it; no rifles. Just handguns and knifes. Overwatch wasn't an official security force there. They actually weren't even allowed to intervene if anything should happen.

But Morrison and Reyes always liked to be on the safe side. That's why he came into play.

So on the morning of the ball, Zayn stood ready at the hangar, dressed in casual jeans and hoodie with a handgun holster on his hips though, shouldering his bag where he had his other weapons and suit inside.

Dragging on a cigarette, he waited for Lacroix to arrive, looking at his watch every now and then to assure himself they weren't late yet.

"The commander looks particularly well in pink! Maybe he's joining Angela for the charity fundraiser?"

“I don’t WANT your FUCKING COOKIES, YOU HERBIVORE.”

(I guess if I had to list three things that bother me:

It hasn’t been common from what I’ve seen, but people who look down on OC RP blogs. If someone wants to be exclusive for canon character RPers or prefers them, that’s fine. Now if they look down on OC RPers, that bothers me. I’ve had experience with someone like that once, and it did a number on my RP self-esteem.

I guess if I have to be honest, sometimes I can’t help but feel like all my RP partners are part of small ‘groups’ that I’m left out of. I feel like the odd man out from everybody sometimes.

She of all people didn’t expect to be invited to an overwatch event. Of course they wanted a few celebrities there. She mingled around the room. She knew a few others in the room.

alt! — @gerbears​

Send me "alt!" and I'll introduce you to a character I've rped in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else!             

                 Mirvon -- original character -- The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

The sound of shuffling, feet barely raising; a steel-capped cane, click-clacking against cobble. 

The clinic was oddly quiet for this time of day. The quiet probably had something to do with the fact that the head healer, Eros, was out for the day, and they’d pinned a piece of parchment detailing such on the door. 

Not many people wanted Mirvon. They wanted Eros. He adored Eros through and through, but he felt suffocated by the elder’s shadow.

He sighed. The tall, garbed elf shambled out of a nearby door, into the reception antechamber. Anticipating emptiness but procuring the opposite -- for there sat a man, moustache adorning his upper lip, in one of the reception chairs. Stunned to see someone silently sitting there, his single, visible eye widened.

Oh. Oh my. Mirvon was...

Quite frankly, Mirvon was ecstatic. Nervous-ecstatic, but ecstatic nevertheless! His ashen skin and bright crimson eye were telltale signs of his Dunmeri heritage and, especially in a place like Markarth, most of the human populace treated him like the dirt beneath their feet. It was something he’d grown, sadly, accustomed to, but even then... every now and again, it hurt. He would feel guilt and despondency stir like a stew amid his gut, bubbling lowly as heat twisted innards to-and-fro.

He wrung gloved hands together; a nervous tic of his.

“Oh! Um, hello!” he greeted, shuffling that bit closer to Gérard, his single eye creasing above a thickly veiled smile. “Sorry, you, uh -- you made quite a quiet entrance! Can I help you with anything? Would you like some tea? I just brewed some chamomile! It’s hot!”

      it was always quieter when it snowed..  the sky over Geneva was a pale lilac. there was a warm glow radiating from each windowpane in the buildings that surrounded her. as the drop ship arrives she doesn’t wait for it to stop. once on board she sits, and lifts her visor. she feels his eyes on her as she cleans off her rifle.   ‘’ ---   quoi?’’