Will’s drug-induced fantasy about being seated eagerly at Hannibal’s table, while Hannibal cooks for them. He and Hannibal are uninjured, unharmed, and dressed handsomely, about to share in a delicious meal together.
And Will’s heartbreaking apprehension when he realizes even in his drug-induced state that something is awry. He can’t trust Hannibal not to hurt him. Not yet, anyway.
understand why ya wanna take all that time rubbin’ that shit all over your
stiffened as the lanky demolitionist sauntered in.
Junkrat and his
hulking bodyguard, Roadhog, had joined up with Overwatch a little over two
months ago. Roadhog was easy enough to avoid, if a bit… intimidating. He was
quiet, and seemed content to ignore everyone else, as long as the smaller
Junker was in no danger. But Junkrat… Oh, he loved to be a pest. And he
seemed to have latched onto her in particular.
Symmetra grit her
jaw and ignored him pointedly as she plucked one of the brushes from her bag
and began to apply the beginnings of her eye makeup with a steady, practiced
hand. A sudden grating screech of metal on tile echoed throughout the communal
washroom. The showers and toilets were separated, but the sinks and elongated
mirror were shared. A few folding metal chairs were propped against one wall.
Satya, herself, was perched in one, and she could see Junkrat in the mirror,
dragging another unceremoniously across the floor toward her.