A rather sudden bang distracts Roadhog from his novel.
Dog-earing the page, he sets the worn book down on his belly and sighs through his mask. Two years of playing bodyguard has granted him enough experience to distinguish one bang from another. Explosions, while outside the norm for the everyday citizen, have a surprising array of sounds that Roadhog has become well acquainted with. If anyone cared to ask, he’s sure he could name every type of explosive he’s heard. In fact, it has come to the point where he could give a rough estimate on how much damage a bomb might inflict from its noise alone, and he supposes that might be an impressive feat if he weren’t so invested in making sure the creator of said bomb remains in one piece.
Fortunately for him (and his boss, he must concede), the bang does not belong to any sort of explosive.