#scrapgunner

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“Oh great. Some more taxi’s of captured people...

Extra? Do you mean extra large? The giant man looks down at the kid a low deep breath as he raises his brows despite it not being seen. “Move.”

"G'day, cobba!"

     Something about tonight felt different than other ones. As Junkertown’s bustling, busy roads became empty, the oppressive silence made it difficult for him to feel anything but restless. No amount of tossing and turning could get him to sleep long enough to feel satisfied, and his attention had been far too scattered to stay focused long enough for him to tinker with any weaponry. In hindsight, he really should have stayed indoors. Safer there than anywhere else. God knows who he’d cross paths with during these hours, but really... He was at the end of his rope.

     Stretching limbs and with plenty of loud yawns, Junkrat hobbled out onto the dusty roads with paper and charcoals in hand, paying barely any mind to the serene scenery of the night sky hanging high above. A little noise would do him good - at least that was usually what put his mind at ease. It’s a wonder how the bar is still open at this ungodly hour, but nonetheless, it’s a good enough place to seek refuge from the humid, quiet outdoors.

     Stepping inside, he notes how little customers there seemed to be. Only a few colorful groups wasting their night away together with a shared drink or two. Nothing too grand. Nothing too exciting. No one he really knew much about either. Only the occasional familiar scowling face or two was sighted as he found himself the closest seat on one of several empty bar stools, quick to unfurl the stained pages and soaking in what little sounds he could get from nearby conversations before scribbling mindlessly away. It was a pleasant change for the time being. For as long as it lasted. He hadn’t even noticed the sound of the doors creaking open - but the bar quickly falling into an uneasy silence...?

“Yeah, that might be the golden rule for wherever you come from. But around here, murder isn’t exactly the best first choice, if you’re tryin’ to fix your problems permanently.” 

@scrapgunner​  SAID   :

“Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, lemme just—” he shifts and pulls a small pig barette from his bag, and gently pins her hair back, clicking it in place.

(  X.  )  // accepting !

             ❛   Well, actually --- I mean, I don’t really mind that it --- Oh-kay ---   ❜

      THE   barette clicks into place with little issue, sideswept bangs now... Well, completely swept to the side. It felt kind of weird to feel an actual breeze on her forehead, totally uninhibited... But not terrible. She’ll probably pop it out as soon as he’s gone... But, y’know --- maybe she’d use it at work !  It always made her more flustered whenever she had to brush her hair out of her face and ring someone up. 

again. what’s with him and bumping into people? he needs to start looking left and right before crossing the damn road. working traffic hasn’t existed since year 3 on earth c, you know! 

“oh, sor--”

.ﾟ☆ﾟ.  ╼  pick up line meme.

@scrapgunner​  SAID   :

quietly bends down, offering her a flower for her hair. 

             ❛   --- Mm ?  Oh, uh --- heh...   ❜

       HIS   face isn’t familiar to her, but there isn’t any hint of wariness in her gaze. She still has to peer upward even as he bends, eyes lingering on the flower in his hand. She’s not really sure what kind it is, but its shape reminds her of a star --- and it’s a vivid shade of red. It’s an unexpected gesture, but a kind one --- and not unwelcome. She offers a warm smile in return, gingerly taking the stem between her fingers before nestling the flower behind her ear. How long had it been since she’d done that ?  The reminder of bygone days in Patch was sudden, and a lot more effective than she expected...