It's a sweltering October afternoon. The sun dwindles out over the Mediterranean sea, slowly sinking down towards the ocean.
Jesse McCree watches the water rise and fall in a fruitless attempt to reach for the approaching sunset from the balcony of Watchpoint Gibraltar, chewing on the end of his cigar.
It's peaceful out here; far too easy to forget the weight of the world once again is resting on his shoulders with the return of Overwatch.
"You know," a gentle voice croons from behind him, in the doorway, "I did buy you that buckle in jest."
The cowboy huffs in amusement, smirking as his old friend settles beside him on the balcony, her hands planted on the railing. She too stares out over the ocean, the wind in her grey hair.
"And you're looking as spry as ever, ma'am," he replies. When the normality of it all creeps in, that he's really standing at Gibraltar, Ana Amari by his side, he's sure to add, "I'm glad you're here, Amari. Really glad."
"Could say the same to you," she's quick to answer, likely just as overwhelmed as he is. "Though, I'm more glad you haven't lost that charm of yours in your old age."
McCree gives a low chuckle. "That's me, always the charmer."
He sees Amari smile in the corner of his eye.
He's surprised how easily she fills the silence out here, still, after all these years. She stands comfortably next to him like nothing's ever changed: he needs a smoke, she needs some fresh air.
They watch the sun set, Overwatch at their backs. The world can wait while he treasures a few moments like this.