@splash-the-heroes (from here)
“I-I uh..” she sniffles between words “I’m overwhelmed that’s all”
The girls room had been decorated to her liking, the old blankets, the defaults replaced with sets she had picked for herself, the shelves covered in pictures and knick knacks and walls covered in maps, highlighted documents of bird behavior patterns , Paintings of bones and odd abstract art. Her dressers were neatly packed together, , her closets were strapped shut she never used them anyhow, she hated the clicking sound they made when they opened.
The girl had been out on a mission all day, while it was nearby it was still rather high stress, it was her first mission without a familiar face. The faces she was paired with however weren’t exactly bad, but they were much louder then she was used to, it was supposed to be a simple sit and watch, possibly take someone one, that was it. But instead of the usual silence , the occasional, direction, her ears had been assaulted with comm. Chatter and unnecessary laughter.
She rubs at her face and frowns “I’m sorry sir, I’ll stop immi-immidiatly, This is no reason to cry I’m too old for this”
Gabe knows, logically, that Lianne is a grown woman and was placed in Blackwatch for a reason: she’s good at her job, follows orders to the letter, won’t quit until the job’s done. But she’s younger than him - just like McCree, just like Shimada - and Gabe gets the same protective feelings that he does with those two. Like Ana, he sees the team as his family, and that means being involved with their lives off of the battlefield as well as on it.
“No-one’s too old to cry,” Gabe insists, brow furrowing. “Soldiers have more reason to cry than anybody. And today...” He hesitates. He sent her into the field with a bunch of near-strangers, a rowdier group than usual. He knows she’s autistic - would’ve known even if he wasn’t briefed by Medical for every new recruit - and it hasn’t escaped him that the constant noise and stimulation must be... nightmarish for her, on bad days. Doesn’t make him regret the decision - they both have to do their jobs - but it doesn’t mean he can’t make up for it a little.
“Today had to have been hard, right? It’s okay,” he insists, raising his hands half-way, non-threatening. “It’s okay, I get it. It happens. Can I sit down?” He gestures to the end of the bed, looking encouragingly at her, like he’s waiting for her to tell him more.
