I couldn't. ( Angela counted the days, met the anniversaries, visited the site whenever possible, ordered flowers for the headstones at Arlington. Paid for upkeep. She's one of the few allowed open travel because of her deal with the UN, and with minimal surveillance to boot.
There's something to be said for "good behavior", though she's done everything but on the sly. They were all forbidden contact and still she writes Genji, keeps in touch with the Lindholms and by extension Reinhardt through Brigitte. Managed to finagle her tech out from under their grimy mitts, slipping into the MSF to continue her work for an exaggerated truth and no more.
The years mattered plenty to her when it was another one gone and still no peace of mind, but now she has one piece, and it's something she cradles in her hands nearly as fondly as she cups his cheeks for one last solid look. You can't avoid her this close, Jesse.
He shifts away with a good suggestion and to wring out that poor, battered old hat of his, and her ankle holds. Painful and on the way to numbing to dull the pain halfway, but it holds, and she takes his arm once it's offered and trusts her weight with him. )
It's good I bottled water from another oasis I'd found before I ran into you; we muddied this one up terribly.
( She won't jump into grilling him, but he'll notice how her eyes keep drifting to that metal arm with her curiosity as she tries to puzzle it out. You're not escaping that explanation at the very least; not for long. She cares too much to let that slide. Once she's certain he's all right and there's nothing giving him immediate grief, then they'll be able to continue on and work on a trail of breadcrumbs to reacquaint one another with the missing years between them. )
If we can find somewhere to rest for a bit, I would appreciate the chance to dry. Sound good?
no subject
There's something to be said for "good behavior", though she's done everything but on the sly. They were all forbidden contact and still she writes Genji, keeps in touch with the Lindholms and by extension Reinhardt through Brigitte. Managed to finagle her tech out from under their grimy mitts, slipping into the MSF to continue her work for an exaggerated truth and no more.
The years mattered plenty to her when it was another one gone and still no peace of mind, but now she has one piece, and it's something she cradles in her hands nearly as fondly as she cups his cheeks for one last solid look. You can't avoid her this close, Jesse.
He shifts away with a good suggestion and to wring out that poor, battered old hat of his, and her ankle holds. Painful and on the way to numbing to dull the pain halfway, but it holds, and she takes his arm once it's offered and trusts her weight with him. )
It's good I bottled water from another oasis I'd found before I ran into you; we muddied this one up terribly.
( She won't jump into grilling him, but he'll notice how her eyes keep drifting to that metal arm with her curiosity as she tries to puzzle it out. You're not escaping that explanation at the very least; not for long. She cares too much to let that slide. Once she's certain he's all right and there's nothing giving him immediate grief, then they'll be able to continue on and work on a trail of breadcrumbs to reacquaint one another with the missing years between them. )
If we can find somewhere to rest for a bit, I would appreciate the chance to dry. Sound good?