Lena Oxton had always had spirit, and that was one of the things that Jack Morrison had always admired about her, even despite the constant struggle to try to reign her in. Now, the new Jack Morrison was still struggling under the same influences that had had him fussing over Tracer years ago, worrying that the girl was too off the walls and too act first think later to be trusted on her own. He knew that was unfair of him, especially since Angela had commented on it--she seemed to be doing all right so far. But the museum heist had been part of the reason why he had returned to Overwatch in the first place, endlessly paranoid about the fact that the newer recruits like Winston and Lena seemed to be running the place now, and while he had to admire their heroism in bringing back an organization that represented something that was so good and pure to them, he still couldn’t help worrying about them and viewing them as children.
Pretending to be a stranger made checking in on them especially hard. He didn’t want to lie and act like he didn’t know them at all, but he also didn’t exactly want to take off his visor and announce his presence to everyone. Even if his name was still Jack Morrison, he didn’t feel like the same man who had once led Overwatch. A lot had changed now, and part of him didn’t want the kids to see that--as much as he didn’t like to admit it or hear the sound of it, some days it felt like the world had beaten him down. Lena didn’t seem like the sort of spirit who could ever be broken, and as someone who she had maybe looked up to in the past, he didn’t want to disappoint her.
Approaching her was more than difficult--without knowing where he stood with her, and whether or not he should reveal himself, it wasn’t like he could strike up casual conversation. Instead, he just found himself glowering at her, arms crossed, through his visor in the common area of the cafeteria, comfortable enough that his eyes were hidden and she wouldn’t notice the attention.
