#veqva

Moira is an example of a woman that is willing to do anything to achieve her goals. And that scares Lena. Not only as a person looking at Moira being willing to experiment and harm whomever, or whatever, to further her goals, but also as the Slipstream pilot.

She met several researchers attached to the project that were very similar in mindset. While Winston was the lead, there was an entire team of the world's greatest quantum physicists, historians, biologists, researchers, etc etc. And many of those people had got to where they were because of their willingness to to whatever it took to finish the job. While they were better vetted, and not nearly as illegal as Moira and her experiments, they skirted the blurred lines between ethical research.

Not just their history, but their attitude. They had regarded Lena like one would a hand tool, a screwdriver that finally fit the screw, compared to the woman that she was. And while none of them meant her harm, they were enough to make her mildly uncomfortable. This really only happened when she was alone with them, as Winston, Mercy and Morrison wouldn't stand for their shit and would tell them exactly where to stick it.

Apparently Valentine's Day is just around the corner but for some ungodly reason, that's completely out of her mind because she's in Angela's house and there's American football on the television. Sombra's wearing a jersey and there's a fucking bird (or specifically, an eagle's head - her team's mascot apparently?) painted on her face and she's got a beer and she's leaning forward intently as if her attention alone could sway their victory.

"Fuck. It's so close. Mira, look at that fucking call, the refs are blind! This shit's rigged." She sighs in disgust - it is close, going back and forth between both teams, but the refs keep making bullshit calls. Every single one makes her cuss and yell 'come on ref' in a mixture of English or Spanish until half-time rolls around. She sinks into the couch with a disgruntled noise "Fuck this. Go Birds."

Wordlessly, Angela (who looks like she's suffering) passes her a box of Swiss chocolates and the pout turns into complete confusion before she puts it together. Oh, right. Valentine's Day was soon. "Awww... you didn't have to do that." She's smiling and turns to beam directly at the doctor, popping open the box of chocolates to peruse them. Shit, they look fancy. "Ah shit. Remind me to get you something. Sorry for yelling at American Football in your house, your TV is nicer."

Doomfist, but it's actually pretty close. They both know her and her capabilities pretty well - not fully because she's not that dumb - but Moira is clever in that annoying Batman way that gives Sombra a big fucking headache. Doomfist is also clever but not so much in the super evil genius way - she'd mostly just wanna run though 'cause that punch would hurt.

The silence stretches between them. She's inhaling the familiar sharp nicotine smoke and she can feel the way it tastes as well as the cold in the air, not that it stands a chance when her body is burning through energy like it is. She's been eating a lot to compensate. There's little perks to that, as if by sheer coincidence, the way she functioned made her artificially highly resistant to the cold. It used to come at the cost of making her far worse in the heat - though the woman next to her had been the one to fix that a long time ago.

She owed her a fuck of a lot. Certainly not to act like a fucking zombie at her house after breaking into it. Some steel comes over her expression, not quite stony but brave and she's forcing pieces of herself back together into something colder and more removed. The silence, the cold, the warmth next to her and the arm around her shoulder, the smoke and snow in the darkness - she contemplates it all like meditation, letting her senses become hyper aware of outside stimuli to lessen the loudness in her mind. She's been beside herself for long enough.

The cigarette goes out and she lets the flame die in the wind before turning to Angela and nodding her head at the door wordlessly, and the two head inside - though this time she takes the doctor's hand in her own and squeezes it in a wordless 'Don't worry, I haven't lost myself into incomprehensible brain soup again' sort of gesture. She removes her little boots and lets go of the doctor's hand, heading further into the house. "Put on something for us to watch? I'm just gonna wash my face and brush my teeth."

"Go ahead. I'll make us hot chocolate."

Angela's in 'take care of others' mode and Sombra recognizes it, has performed it's mirror for Angela more than once by now. It makes her actually smile whilst heading down the hallway. She steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind her, squeezing her eyes shut and just taking a deep lungful of air before exhaling slowly. Opens her eyes and meets them in the mirror with something fierce within her, taking the soap in one hand and turning on the faucet with another. Washing her hands, brushing her teeth, that becomes meditation too. Looking at herself in the mirror every once in a while. She was gonna have to go back tomorrow and her shit needed to be together in a way it was absolutely not right now. Luckily it was a short flight - just over a mountain range and she'd be there in an hour or so. Which was good. She needed to sleep late.

Also she was gonna have to look at the Widow in a way that didn't make it fucking obvious that she was having some weird sort of breakdown. So. Together.

She dries her mouth, her hands, and opens the door to the bathroom, stepping out into the hallway. There's the sound of seagulls and a peaceful voice with a distinctly British accent (she forgot the gringo's name but he was super famous or something) that grows louder with each of her steps and a swelling, distinct smell of really good, really fancy Swiss hot chocolate and it softens some of the sharpness she'd molded herself into in there. Angela's looking back from the couch at her with a kind smile that the hacker returns, settling into the couch next to her carefully so as not to disturb their mugs.

"Okay. So. You have probably deduced that there's a lot of stuff I just don't talk about." Her words become clipped and precise, her accent providing a lilt around perfect grammar and a tilt to her diction that is distinctly Mexican. Also she's cognizant of the look of amused disbelief on Angela's expression at her overt formality about an extremely personal thing. But it was the only way she knew how to say it without getting all weepy. So she sticks out her tongue and shushes her before settling in closer to the doctor so as to share warmth under a blanket.

Part of her is also watching the screen - a pod of orcas has broken the surface near chunks of ice where a seal is hanging out and it's getting incredibly violent on screen. "Shit. Glad I'm not a seal." She sips at hot chocolate and smirks half-heartedly before continuing. "So, as usual, I can't give you any details but I'll just phrase it in a way that captivates my situation." Still really technical, but unlike her previous, terse sentences, there's a great amount of thought put into the way she's saying things.

"One of my sins is eating away at me. It's a sin that I haven't technically committed yet but it will. It may as well have come to pass already a long time ago." She goes in for another slow, long sip, contemplative whilst her cybernetic eyes commit everything on the screen to memory. The seal's been slapped into the air with a powerful kick and she sees a crimson arc spray in one direction. Little thing doesn't stand a chance. She almost feels as if her teeth are particularly sharp in that moment. "There's nothing I can do to stop it. It might be today. Next week. Next year. I don't know. I think I find comfort in quantifying things and putting boxes around them but I can't do that with this."

The seal is enough to feed all three. They're not gentle. By the time they're done, their sharp teeth have painted a large patch of water - larger than she'd thought it would be - in deep crimson fading away into dark Arctic ocean blue. She looks at her nails instead, noting chips at the edges of their pale violet hue.

"I'll always be there when you need me. You know that, right?"

She doesn't know how true that would be if she could be specific with the details - but that's not the reality she's living in right now and probably never would be. That wasn't going to be a good day, though. Was it selfish of her to seek solace in someone who might very well want to kill her about it if she knew? Was it monstrous of her? She found she didn't know the answer when she looked at her.

"Dios ayuda me." The hacker made the sign of the cross and just paused for a long moment - one of her hands went to her hip as she considered the situation. Oh dear God. Boiled cookies.

She turned off the heat on the stove and took the pot, draining it in the sink against the side of it so the boiled bits of cookie dough wouldn't clog the drain, then set it down on the counter to look at them. Boiled to hell.