"well well mirageman." Octane can be a lot of things, but he doesn't forget about gifts, instead he gives Mirage a box, in it, there's a gold edged deck of cards and a toy replica of the wingman
Goddamnit.
Elliott reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he hears the oh-so-familiar vrrrmmm of Octaneās legs speeding towards him. The snow didnāt seem to hinder his movements all that much; perhaps heād bought something to aid his mobility. Or else it really was true, and nothing known to man could slow the speedster down.
All heād been doing was casually observing the club ā Amarlyiss or some other stupid nameā near his own housing that everyone in the locale seemed to be talking about, when Octane had sped up and caught him totally unaware.
You spend enough time around the other man, you pick up the feeling that heās grinning beneath that mask of his; despite the lack of all other facial features. Elliott hesitantly reaches out for the box heās carrying, unsure whether he should accept it at face value. Octavio had blown off his own legs then told his press that he considered it his ābirthdayā. Lord fucking knew what he gifted the people in his life during the holidays.
The package doesnāt explode upon receival, which is a good sign, thus Elliott decides to risk taking it apart to uncover what lays inside.
He canāt help but laugh aloud when he lays his gaze on the gift held within. It was considerably less flammable than heād anticipated, and a tad more thoughtful as well. He takes the toy Wingman replica out at first, spinning it betwixt his fingers before tucking it in a back pocket.
The cards however, he flourishes towards Octavio ā after chucking the gift box over his shoulder ā and winks, a sparkle in his eye.
āYou feeling lucky, compadre?ā
