[maybe he's into that don't judge

When she calls for help he's obedient, doesn't think twice about kneeling beside her and peeling the suit down her hips but midway through the motion he feels a furious heat on his face. For all the time's he's flirted with her in the past he had the confidence to do so under the assumption it'd never go anywhere. Neither of them had that luxury. Not between Overwatch and Blackwatch, not between all the missions and complications. Peeling her suit off was done with the intention of a mission--helping her--but seeing the smooth curve of her hip and the act of her undressing, and that his hands were the ones doing it felt ilicit. He almost doesn't want to believe this is even real until the palm of his hand touches her leg and it's all warm and soft and real. He quickly finishes the job and cooly turns back in his seat, scratching the bridge of his nose like he could scratch the heat off. Sucking on his cigar helps.]

Not your fault. [Talking helps more, even if it's a somber subject.] Not a damn thing anyone could've done about Swiss HQ. [He means more than just that incident, of course. It was the series of events that lead up to that breaking point.]

...Didn't want any part of it anymore.