Now arriving at Watchpoint: Gibraltar.
Symmetra looked up from her novel, something innocuous enough that Mccree had no problems with her bringing along, the second she heard a mechanical voice announcing safety procedures for landing. From what she was told, this was Overwatch's AI system, ATHENA. Mccree had already returned to the cockpit, manually steering the jet closer to their destination. She looked out the window, and in the cloudy distance, she could vaguely make out the Overwatch Headquarters. The facility was nestled and hidden away, seemingly abandoned to an onlooker, amongst the jagged cliffs. Only a few lights were on at this hour, making the island appear dreary and lonely in the midsts of the never-ending, dark ocean depths. As they approached the landing pad, Symmetra involuntarily began tapping her foot against the floor. Seeing this place did nothing but increase her anxiety.
"You all right?" Mccree asked, looking over his shoulder.
Embarrassed that he must have heard her tapping, she attempted to stop but couldn't. "I am… not sure," she admitted, not breaking her steady gaze from the window. During the ride back, her stomach had felt as though it was coiling itself into several tight knots. Her fingers drummed on the open pages of her book. Truthfully, more time had been spent re-reading the first couple of pages than anything, unable to concentrate and constantly forgetting what she had just read. She couldn't even say what the title was if anyone had asked her. Despite the several hours they had been flying, it was still too soon to be here.
Not knowing what would happen was killing her bit by bit. She was so used to being in control, so used to knowing exactly what she needed to do. Machines were so much easier to understand. There was no uncertainty, only a routine to follow time and time again, and every problem had a solution. The simplicity in it was all she wanted in life, but people were entirely different. They were unpredictable and that alone made them terrifying. While Mccree was seemingly unbiased, she fretted the stares and whispers the others had made. Her ties with Vishkar would probably never fade away no matter what she said. Would they believe her if she said she wouldn't just scamper back to Vishkar to report what she found out about Overwatch? Probably not, especially when there were several rumors that the infamous terrorist group, Talon, had been a large part of the company's corruption. They'd have to treat her like a prisoner of war, wouldn't they? Just to keep their location safe from a possible mole. The plausibility of it scared her.
Once the jet hovered over the landing pad before slowly touching the ground, Mccree flipped off the switches and made sure everything would be ready for the next flight. After he made a quick double check, he opened the hatch and a ramp extending itself for them to step down from. Politely, he offered his hand to her to assist her way down. "Well, no worries. You and I are gonna wash up and hit the hay, just like I said before. It's all gonna be a breeze tomorrow," he promised, giving her a small smile.
Symmetra found it odd that she even felt an inkling of trust in him in a time where everything screamed otherwise. She presumed it was out of pure desperation. "Very well." She surprised herself by accepting his help, but she was too lost in her worries to really dwell on it. Stepping foot on the concrete, she looked back and watched as the ramp retracted and the door slowly closed itself. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she would be able to run back inside and use ATHENA to pilot, so she could escape to… to…
The plan came to a halt. That's right, after Vishkar, she would have nowhere to go. She had to constantly remind herself that there was no longer a home for her out there. The entire empire of her life had crumbled into dust, and she was left with nothing. She had no friends of her own, her family she hadn't seen for more than twenty years, and every place she had ever stayed at had been provided for her from the company itself. No matter where she went, she felt as though people were staring at her, judging her for her connection to the company. Even if she pleaded that she had no idea of how crooked they had become, she feared that no one would believe it, and she couldn't blame them.
A sudden squeeze from Jesse brought her back into the reality, and she realized he still had a hold of her hand. Her energy was far too low to make a fuss, and every second that passed, her body felt like it was fading away into nothingness. She wondered if she'd blow away in the wind if she let go of him. The metal of his hand was surprisingly warm to the touch, giving off its own heat, and she tried concentrating on it to keep herself rooted.
"Lights are on in there, so Winston's probably up, I bet. I gotta check in with him, so come with me and we'll go get you tucked in later. Must be jet lagged going there and back." He gently tugged, leading her up the way to Gibraltar lab. He made sure to walk her pace this time and didn't make her talk anymore than she had to.
The lab hadn't changed much in the last couple of days, a decent space for a small number of people and a few projects going on. Giving everything a second look over, Symmetra could honestly say that she was a little impressed by the technology and development here. Not to say Vishkar was behind, but they were sometimes limited in what they could create or work on. If it wasn't by the book, Vishkar wanted nothing to do with it. It was by pure luck that she was able to develop her teleporter and wasn't scolded for wasting time on an irrelevant project. In fact, they replicated it and adapted it into their daily lives. As proud as she was of that accomplishment, she remembered being warned that she shouldn't step out of line again. It wasn't the first nor the last time she had gotten that remark. In retrospect, Vishkar had always tried to limit creativity, despite having the whole world at their fingertips, just to keep their employees under their thumb. She was a little envious of the free spirit of science that Overwatch members had.
"Hypothetically speaking, of course, but… if I had decided to join Overwatch…" she started, looking around at the equipment a little longer. Such development could really be beneficial for the world, and to think that none of the creative thinking would be restrained… It almost made her want to get down and start tinkering with anything that would dance out of her thoughts. Ever since she was a child, she could always see symbols and designs that drifted into her head, always more prominent when she danced until one day they became tangible to the world. Even in her wildest dreams, Symmetra would have never seen her life come this far. "Would I have had access to the lab as well?"
"Huh? Well, yeah I guess so. There's some other workshop areas, though some haven't been touched in years since we lost so many people after we were disbanded. Sure everything there would work just fine though. I personally don't really visit em that much 'less I need to do some maintenance on this old thing, though I prefer doing that in the comfort of my own room." He let go of her hand to wiggle his fingers and turning it over to inspect it. "Can't say it needs some anytime soon, thanks to you. Not even a dent or a scratch from today."
"Hm." She glanced at her hand, the warmth from his metal was dwindling fast. It had been comforting while it lasted, but she had too much pride to ask him to let her hold it again.
"Anyways here, you can sit down if you want," Jesse said as he wheeled a stool out from under the table and patted the cushion. "It'll only take a sec, but those heels don't look forgiving so you may as well. I don't know how you managed to walk all day in em, but more power to ya." He gestured to her shoes.
"We were on the jet for nearly 9 hours, I will be fine," she mumbled, still taking the seat anyways.
He smiled again, giving her another pat on the head. "I'm just messing with you, Satya."
She awkwardly slumped down onto the table, leaning her forehead against her folded arms. Even though she willingly gave him her name, she wasn't used to hearing him say it. When she was addressed by her superiors, her name sounded like more like a number in a file than a person. Everyone was always precise and certain. The way Mccree said it reminded her of people at the marketplace in Hyderabad, a faded memory of people being familiar and close yet easily overwhelming. The stark difference made her feel unsure which one she truly preferred.
"You're more beat than I thought you were," Symmetra heard him say, but she didn't look up. His footsteps began to trail away but stopped for a moment as if he forgot something or was hesitating. Seconds later, he was already coming back to her, his boots visible when she tilted her head just enough to see the floor. At first she thought he was going to say something else to her until she felt a warm cloth placed on her shoulders. Her view of his shoes was blocked with a wall of burgundy. It was unmistakable that this was his serape, and as ragged as it was, the intimacy of sharing what she assumed to be a precious belonging, made her pull her arms around her head even closer.
With a bit of reflecting, she had to concede that he really had been nothing but kind to her, no matter what she said to him. Even now, despite completely rejecting the, albeit questionable, olive branch that Overwatch had extended to her, he was doing his best to help her and was patient through and through. Perhaps, she could try to make a more conscious effort to be kinder in return, maybe express her gratitude somehow. Closing her eyes, she tried to think of how to just what to say and hopefully, by the time he came back, she'd have rehearsed it enough times in her head that she'd give a flawless delivery.
A knock at the door startled her awake, and she quickly sat up. With an immediate scan, she realized she wasn't in the lab anymore but rather the temporary room they had set up for her stay. She was still wearing her clothes from yesterday, not that she had other suitable things packed. It was agreed upon that she shouldn't wear her Vishkar uniform anymore to avoid confusion or conflict, so she had only thought to wear the cyan dress she sometimes wore on espionage missions that day. Wearing the outfit usually made her feel more confident, so she figured it'd help her through this ordeal of going in and out of Gibraltar. Imagine her surprise when Mccree took it upon himself to drag her off to Route 66 the night she had arrived, a trip that leaked into the next two days. She had spent too much time here, and now she was in a bed that didn't belong to her.
"But how did I get here…" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she tried to remember what happened the day before. From what she could rouse from her memory, they had arrived extremely late in the night, and she was waiting for Mccree in the lab. She must have fallen asleep there, but did she get up at some point to come back here? No, she couldn't recall wandering back to her designated room. Assuredly, she would have remembered that much if she had.
Turning her head and seeing the nightstand beside the bed quickly answered her question. A bundle of clothes, most likely borrowed from another female member, nestled on its surface. From the looks of it, there was a white sweater and jeans, something she probably would not have chosen to wear. A note was sitting on top, and when she picked it up to read it over, she saw Mccree's big, messy scrawl addressed to her.
Hey Satya!
Didn't expect you to hit the hay so fast,
so I hope you don't mind that I carried you to bed
Here's some fresh clothes to borrow.
Leave your stuff in the hamper,
and whoever's on laundry duty can get it
See you for breakfast,
Jesse
The idea of him carrying her made her pale. Did he carry her like a rag doll or a sack of potatoes? He did it once before without her dead weight. Was she too heavy for him? Or worse, did anyone see him lugging her around down the halls? Symmetra pictured her limp body and hair dangling at his side as he trekked all the way from the lab. She put her hands on her face and dragged them down her cheeks; how embarassing… She wanted to ask him about it, but she feared the answer would mortify her even more.
Wait… the door. There was a knock.
Jumping out of bed, taking in a sharp breath when the freezing floor touched her feet, she hurried to slip out of her clothes, tossing them where she had been instructed, and tugged on the fresh, clean ones. Thankfully, the material wasn't too uncomfortable for her, but she wouldn't go out of her way to wear them again. Without checking herself properly, she went to the door and opened it, expecting to see Mccree grinning down at her with some cheesy one-liner. "U-uh, good morning?" There wasn't anyone there but suddenly a petite, brunette woman popped up from the floor, nearly giving Symmetra a heart attack. Taken aback, she could only stand there in shock.
"Oh! You're up, good! Thought it might get a liiiiittle bit awkward if I just stood out here waiting for ya right outside your door, but I figured you might be sleeping. Didn't want ya to miss out on breakfast, and-"
Definitely not the cowboy and somehow even more annoying in the span of a few seconds. She spoke so quickly and had a high pitch to her voice that it was a little hard for Symmetra to listen to. She instinctively put a hand to her headset, ready to dial down the volume intake, as it would be rude to use the mute function, but realized it must have been taken it off. Glancing back at her bed, she noticed that it was left at the foot of her bed. "I see. Where is J-… the escort that was here before?" She asked, not sure if she should address him so informally. He did say that it would be okay to refer to him by his first name some time ago, but the idea of saying it to someone else made her feel a little rather sheepish.
"Aw, you mean Mccree? He's waitin' for us at the mess hall with everyone else. You shoulda seen his face, was all pouty that he didn't get to fetch you," the woman giggled. "Never seen em give a look like that before! So disappointed! You must have really made an impression~!"
Symmetra half wanted to say that she'd prefer it if he had gone and brought her over instead of this woman, but she decided it'd be best not to. "I assume you'll be taking me there in his stead?" She asked, not picking up on any of Tracer's deliberate prodding. In a perfect world, the woman would only be there to take her laundry and leave her be, but as fate would have it, life was not fair.
"Yeah, of course! You've never been down there, have you? I'll lead the way! Lena's the name by the way. They call me Tracer on the field. Can call me either or, I don't mind!" For it being so, presumably, early, this person was beyond energetic. She couldn't even stay still for a moment, gently bobbing on the balls of her feet and animatedly gesturing with her hands. "You're Satya, right?"
Inwardly wincing, Symmetra shook her head and held up a hand. Sure, it was rather odd to hear Mccree say it, but it was certainly better than hearing this chatterbox gremlin. Every passing moment, her patience thinned. "I'd prefer it if you didn't refer to me on a first name basis. Vaswani is perfectly adequate."
"You sure are serious, aint'cha? Well, we don't wanna be late! Come along then!" Tracer chirped as she suddenly blinked down the hallway, several paces away, waving at her with a cheeky grin. "We can still get there before Reinhardt eats all the goodies! C'mon, Vaswani!"
With a deep, heavy sigh, Symmetra retrieved her shoes and slipped them on before following Tracer off to the mess hall. The halls were a small maze going here and there, but becoming familiar with the infrastructures of a building were second nature to her. The longer she was here, the more certain she was that she could draw out a map of the entire base before the day would end. If she was dedicated enough, she could probably even make a small model of it, perfectly to scale. Not only that but she could look into the areas she noticed that needed to be improved. With so few members returning, it wasn't surprising that the maintenance on the building wasn't their first priority. She considered asking Mccree to put in a good word for her to Winston and allowing her clearance to do adjustments and rebuilding as she saw fit.
There you go again, making plans for something you have no intentions of being a part of… she mused, running her hand along the wall as she walked, making no effort to try and keep up with Tracer, who was practically bouncing around and repeatedly attempting to make small talk. Symmetra gave short answers or an occasional hum, hoping that at some point, her talkative companion would stop, but that point never came. The moment she saw a group of people standing and straggling around through the windows of a door, she felt relief. Ironic, given that she hated crowds.
Without waiting to hear another word from Tracer, she hurriedly went inside and gave a brusque goodbye. Being the introvert she was, her energy would have been depleted to zilch if they had stayed in the same proximity any longer than they had. At that point, she internally bargained with life that she would never complain about Mccree's friendliness if it meant not having to get drained like this again.
Speaking of the devil, seeing him was a breath of fresh air. He was seated at a table by himself with two empty plates in front of him. His head was propped up by one hand and had a small frown, but it cleared the moment he saw her approach. "Hey, there's my girl," he warmly said, sitting up straight and running hand through his hair.
"Good morning," she replied, taking note that not only was most of his gear wasn't on, but his hat was placed across from him, near where she stood. She wondered if he was underdressed solely becuase it was the start of the day or if he wasn't going on any escapades today. To be courteous, she walked around the table to sit next to him.
"Uh, Symm-" He looked mildly surprised, looking back to where his hat was and then at her.
"Satya."
He let out a small chuckle at that. "Satya, right. But actually I put my hat over there to save you a spot if you wanted. I mean, I don't mind or nothing, but I just thought you might not have known where you wanted to sit."
As she thought, she really didn't mind it so much when Mccree spoke her given name. He was a lot calmer and his voice was pleasant to the ears in comparison to Tracer's. "I see, should I change my seating arrangements then?" She asked, ready to stand up and follow his direction.
"Wha- hold on there; I said I don't mind," he said as he made the motion to touch her forearm but didn't go through with the act.
Symmetra settled back onto the bench and nodded. She was starting to take note that he was making more conscious efforts not to touch her without warning, or at least, that's what it looked like to her. Either way, it made her content. "Very well then."
"My, you two are getting along just fine, aren't you?" Another woman bemused as she paused by their table. She had a similar sweater, hers being a soft river blue that complimented her eyes, as Symmetra. Most likely she the person that had lent her the clothes. "And here I was, worried that Jesse wouldn't be able to bring you back in one piece, but I heard you were the one taking control of the situation. If that was the case, then I guess I had nothing to worry about in the end then."
"Hey now! I take offense to that!"
"He looked after me just fine, thank you for your concern, Doctor Ziegler," Symmetra said, coolly coming to his defense.
The woman smiled, "Oh, so you know of me?"
"Of course, you are a very prominent figure in this world after all. There have been countless articles and news stories about your research and breakthroughs in the medical field. I consider you a very inspirational role model, and I hope you are able to continue your work to better this world," Symmetra said. Out of all the members of Overwatch, Dr. Ziegler was the only one she had ever gone out of her way to read about, though sometimes she had wondered why the doctor had joined Overwatch of all organizations. From what she remembered, Dr. Ziegler was a self-declared pacifist, yet the missions they went on were dangerous and riddled with the pain of war. Still, she admired anyone who was out to help being good in the world. She was a little disappointed in herself for not being able to do so. "It's an honor to meet you."
"Aha, I'm flattered! Please, call me Angela. And what should I call you, Miss Vaswani?" She held out a thin hand to shake.
"Just that, thank you," Symmetra insisted as she shook hands, connecting the dots that the "Ang" Mccree had been talking to the day before and Dr. Ziegler were the same person. Everyone was on such a personal level with each other, having nicknames and making, what she assumed to be, inside jokes. She didn't have a place in it, and perhaps, it was better that way. She wouldn't know how to join in, even if she wanted to.
"Understood, but you better get your food soon or else they'll get cold. Go on now, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" Mercy happily said, leaving to go join Tracer and an unbelievably large man at their own table who roared a hearty welcome to her.
The second she was out of earshot, Mccree turned to her with a puzzled expression. "Vaswani, huh?"
"What of it?" She asked, picking up one of the plates and looked for where the food was being served. She carefully observed as Tracer zipped by, carrying a tray to a counter where the short bearded man was standing on a chair and handing out everyone's meals as they came up. Following suit, she started to make her way over. "It is my name after all."
"Nothin' I guess," Mccree replied, putting his hat on and joining her. "Just wondering why you told them to call you Vaswani instead of your first name."
"You do the same as well, do you not? I've heard most everyone refer to you by your surname. I hardly see what the difference is with mine. The fact of the matter is, my preference is being on a professional level with my peers."
"But you let me call you Satya," he countered.
"I… that… That is because you are the least professional person here," she huffed. She was a little annoyed that he was absolutely correct. There was no logic behind her allowing him to be on such friendly terms while she kept everyone else on neutral grounds. Then again, their talk on the jet had made her a little softer towards him, not that she'd tell him that. Hearing him go on about the details about his life with Deadlock when he was just a young boy and making mistakes that he'd atone for later in life made her feel a bit more connected to him. Once she was more receptive to hearing him talk about it, she could finally understand why he volunteered to talk to her. It was just like he said, he was once in her shoes and he only wanted to help.
"Is that your roundabout way of saying you consider me your friend now?" He smugly asked, gently nudging her arm.
"It most certainly is not."
"Are you lovebirds done with yet with yer quarreling, or are ya just gonna hold up the line and let all this slop get cold?" The cook gruffly retorted, waving what looked like a giant claw at the two.
Mccree's ears turned red, but Symmetra seemed unfazed by the jab as if she had never heard the phrase used for people before. She was so busy talking that she hadn't realized they were already in the midsts of the breakfast queue. With a simple "My apologies," she held out her plate as she had seen the others do.
The older man stared at her for a moment before he plopped a healthy portion of mashed potatoes on the side. "Yer that architect, aren't ya? The one from Vishkar," he asked, tapping his chin as if he was trying to remember.
"Yes. I believe you were fiddling with my photon projector a couple of days ago." She hadn't forgotten walking past the room where they were keeping it for safekeeping. Both he and Winston were looking it over and playing around like it was a toy.
"Is that what you call that flimsy looking contraption?" He offhandedly said, ready to give her a large slab of ham, but when she held up a hand to say no, he instead gave it to Mccree. Reaching over he grabbed a bowl of salad and handed it to her, which she readily accepted.
"The material created by hard light is by no means flimsy. You must be misinformed. In fact, there has been much research and planning into getting it to be light yet durable if that is what you are talking about."
"Eh, if you ask me, building from scratch is what really makes a solid foundation. Now that's something that'll last you for decades. Not some lightweight whatchamacallits." He finished serving Mccree his food and was ready to give the next person's theirs.
"I don't recall anyone asking you," she sniffed.
Mccree snorted as he gently pushed her upper back to redirect her away from the meal line before she could drag out their debate with Torbjorn. "All right now, I'm sure you two can continue this another time. Thanks for the meal, Torb. Sure it's great as always."
"And what is so amusing?"
"I just didn't know you could get so riled up and competitive just like that," he teased. "So much to learn about you, ain't there?"
"I was not getting 'riled up.' Rather, Science and technology are competitive fields, you know. Of course there will be discussions and arguments just as there will be opinions as well as wrong opinions," she mumbled. Truth be told, she really wanted to go back just to prove herself right. It was kind of exciting to be suddenly thrusted into a war of words about a field of her interest. Something like that wouldn't really be allowed amongst her coworkers as it would make a scene. "But believe me, hard light is by far the most superior method of building there is!"
"That so? Should really tell me more about it when we got downtime."
Her eyes gleamed brighter than the light she wielded. "Most certainly, I was one of the company's best. I could supply you with just about any information regarding this topic." If there was anything she liked doing, it was talking about things that fascinated her. Not that she got many chances to do so. Even in interviews with magazines and journals, they'd have to cut her answers short because she'd go on and on. It left her disappointed, so she mostly jotted things down to read to herself. People only wanted the specifics.
"Sounds good to me. I'll whip up a bowl of popcorn if we got any bags laying around in the kitchen," he said, completely genuine about it. "I kinda like how animated you get when you're real into something. Easy to see how passionate you are as a person."
"My thanks. But, may I ask you something?" She piped up once they were back at the table. Even then, she chose to sit next to him.
"Course, ask away," he said, already tearing into his food. Symmetra noted that he had a hearty appetite. Understandable, given his line of work would require him to have a steady intake of calories and the likes.
"Why were you not the one to get me this morning. That girl… the one with the orange leggings over there…"
"Orange…? You're talking about Tracer, right? Tiny one with a pixie cut? Talks about a mile a minute?"
"Yes, that is the one. She said you were particularly disappointed that you were not able to. Is that true?"
Mccree almost choked and grabbed the closest glass of water, which was hers, to help clear his throat. With teary eyes, he shook his head and wheezed out, "Is that what she said?" He grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth. "What else did she say? Actually don't tell me. Don't listen to her, she just hears what she wants to hear and runs off with it. She's a good kid, and I respect her, but that ain't what happened." He realized his mistake and pushed the cup towards her. "Sorry, thought this drink was mine."
Symmetra peered at the cup with mild disgust and pushed it back to his side of the table, thankful she didn't actually drink out of it yet. The notion of sharing drinks was off-putting to her, and she was sure that Dr. Ziegler would entirely agree. "No, thank you… but if what she presumed wasn't true, then what happened?"
"Thing is somebody had to get you, and I was gonna volunteer buuuut she outgunned me on it. Said she'd be there and back in a jiffy. She's a quick one, chronal accelerator or not, so her going woulda made sense for her to go. I wouldn't have really minded if it was for anything else, but I just kinda figured she was gonna be a little too… hm, how should I say it… too much for ya right off the bat, so I tried convincing her that I should be the one to go. She took it the wrong way and zipped off. That's all that happened.,"
"Much is one way to put it," she replied.
"She's an acquired taste for the quiet ones, grumpy in Ol' Torb's case, but when and if you warm up to her, trust me, she's a real gem as a friend and a partner on the battlefield. Back in the day, she even managed to get the old man who used to run things around here to have a change of heart on things. I'd bet you'd get along once you get to know her. She's a squeaker for sure, but she got a real heart of gold."
Symmetra rubbed her prosthetic arm, fingertips gliding against the glossy alloy. "Unfortunately, given my circumstances, I do not believe I will ever 'warm up to her' as you say. Or any one of these people for that matter."
"Ahh, hmm… Well, At least you got me, right?" he asked with a quiet laugh as he handed her his cup to make up for drinking hers.
"I hardly think that counts," she replied, taking the cup and sipping from it. Despite people saying water had no taste, she was always very aware of the flavor. She never did like water that tasted bitter to her, but the water here was subtly sweet. She relaxed her shoulders and the corners of her lips twitched, showing a brief smile. "But I appreciate the thought."
After they were done with their meal, Mccree took their plates and led her over to the kitchen. "Here's where the cooking and washing gets done. Everyone's assigned a different chore, depending on who's on missions and who's not. Makes it a helluva lot easier to keep this place up and running than just letting one person do it. There's cooking duty, laundry, uhh mopping the floors, and whatever else needs to be done basically. I'm actually on dishwashing duty today, but you can just sit there and wait for me if you want," he said as he rolled up his sleeves and let the water run to give everything a good soak before washing the food residue off. "Usually, I'd just let em pile up till dinner time before I started, so I can knock em out in one go, but may as well get a head start."
"I could help," she suggested, looking around at the amount of plates and cooking tools in the sink. There weren't too many given that there were only a handful of people here, but it'd definitely would go by quicker if the two of them went at it, especially if he'd have to clean more later on. "If I am not to join Overwatch, the least I could do is to help you with your errand."
"You sure? You really don't have to stick around here just cuz I am. Feel free to wander wherever; besides, there's gonna be a lotta stuff with leftover pieces on em. Especially when Torb brings back the stuff he was serving from." He held up a plate with a bit of fat from the ham on it. "Doesn't bother me none, but you okay with that shit touching you?"
She made a face, picturing the feeling of loose scraps rubbing against her bare skin in the water. "No. That is entirely why dish gloves were made."
"Reckon you're right; here, we got a pair in the cabinets somewhere. If you get it, I'll let you help out then."
She opened a few cabinet doors before she finally found the gloves half buried by a package of paper plates. Tugging them out and putting them on, she went to his side and grabbed a spare sponge.
Truthfully, Symmetra had never actually had to wash dishes before in her life. In the academy, nearly everything was accommodated for her, despite her being entirely isolated from most others, and even as an adult. All she had to do was listen to everything she was told and in return, she didn't have to lift a finger for mundane needs. It was instilled in her that these little chores were beneath her, and that there was always low ranking underlings who would do it for her. In essence, this way of thinking had made her reliant on them, and during all that time, she had never even realized it. It was normal routine for her to not focus on anything except her studies or research, never bothering to learn how to cook, to do her own laundry, or any other independent living skills. She wondered if Vishkar had intentionally groomed her to be dependent on them to prevent her from ever considering leaving them since she lacked several skills to live on her own. Chances were, they probably assumed she'd find herself overwhelmed by all the unlearned tasks that would accumulate and would return back to them. The concept bothered her, and she promised herself that she wouldn't allow herself to live on being so incompetent. A simple, elegant method of showing her old employers that they had no longer had any control over her.
She glanced over at Mccree and watched him clean the dishes. As she thought, there didn't really seem anything to it, and with the gloves, she wouldn't have to worry about the residue. Taking the sink next to his and squirting a bit of soap on her sponge, she started scrubbing the first plate and let the water wash the suds and food away. Following what her partner was doing, she put it aside on a towel to dry before going for the next item to clean. It became a pattern to her, and like a machine, she was able to take down everything in her grasp with precision and speed. Some time ago, she would have thought washing dishes as something not worth her time when she had research to be done, but this was actually enjoyable to her and helped keep her mind off of things for the time being.
"What song is that? Sounds pretty nice."
Oh. She had been humming while she worked, a habit she always had for as long as she could remember; however, she only did it when she was completely alone so she didn't interrupt anyone else's work. There was something about Mccree that made her drop her guard more times than she would have liked, and ironically, it's what initially made her feel icy towards him when they had met.
"No, no keep going." When she shook her head, he asked, "Do you sing?"
"What? No, I do not sing. I haven't sang anything since I was a child." It was true, dancing was one thing becuase it directly helped with her fabricate hardlight better than anyone else, but singing? Singing was an entirely different story.
"Pity, bet you'd be real good at it."
"Do you sing, Mr. Mccree?" She asked, trying to deflect the spotlight off of her. She was sure if he kept pressing on with the subject, he'd ask her to sing for him, and something told her, she'd feel obliged to do so just because it was him. She was worried that, without having sung in so long, she wouldn't know what she'd sound like and making repugnant screeches in front of him was the last thing she'd want to do.
"Hey, if you say I gotta call you Satya, I want you to call me Jesse. That's a fair deal, right?"
"… Not in front of the others," she hesitated. It was a bit disconcerting to be on such casual terms and letting other people see. If she was being truthful, she still wasn't used to being around Mccree, but whether she realized it or not, her unwavering focus had coiled itself around him. The slowly growing bond between the two was no doubt a unique experience for her. Every moment they had pulled and coaxed her out of her comfort zone. Sometimes it was a little difficult for her to truly comprehend the dynamics of it; after all, a person was far more unpredictable than her once set routine. Easing into this new life would take time, and she wanted to reduce the amount of eyes that would see her vulnerability as she bloomed. "At least not yet."
"Satya, you're making it sound like we're out doin' some kinda illicit scandals, you're gonna make me blush," he coyly batted his long eyelashes at her, entertained by her deadpan face. "But to answer your question, yeah, guess you could say I sing. Not any good at it, but y'know, good way to pass the time."
"I wouldn't think of you as the type to sing," she admitted, setting her share of dishes and silverware off to the side before getting a clean rag to dry them off. "That makes two of us as far as learning new things about one another."
"And you say we're not friends," he cheekily said, flicking his hand towel at her playfully. He almost snorted when she didn't move out of the way, choosing to raise an eyebrow at him. "Might as well text your old pal goodbye becuase obviously I'm your new best friend."
She paused her actions and glanced up towards the ceiling. "I never had anyone to call a friend in the past. I would not have anyone to message my goodbyes to," she mused. The only person she really had an inkling of 'closeness' to was Sanjay, but that was more so that he was someone she dealt with more often than others at work. However, he had yet to contact her since the disbandment, and she had no idea what had become of him.
"O-oh geez, Satya, I was just joking… I didn't mean to bring up bad memories or anything, really!" Mccree shook his hands quickly, instantly nervous about how she was taking his brazen banter. He stepped forward and held out his arms as if he intended on giving her a hug, but he stopped himself short when he remembered that she didn't seem comfortable with touch. "Do I have permission to give you a hug?"
"You have dish soap on the front of your shirt. I'd rather you did not."
He looked down before throwing his head back to laugh. That honesty of hers made her a real wildcard."You never hold back, do you? What a treat you are, Satya. Never know what's gonna come outta your mouth."
That would be a first. Sometimes, her sharp tongue got her in trouble with her peers and superiors. She couldn't help but say what was on her mind half the time. It did feel a little nice that she didn't have to tip toe with her words around him, and he didn't seem to be bothered by it so much. She almost smiled but felt a little embarrassed.
"Are you even done with your half of the dishes?" She asked, turning her head.
"Aw, c'mon, I thought we were having a moment here!" He said jest, pretending to pout as he returned back to his chore.
Maybe things wouldn't be so bad if I stayed here just a little bit longer, she thought as she moved on to help dry off the things he washed. Was it selfish to want more time? She wasn't sure. All she did know was her stay at Overwatch thus far was more positive than she had assumed it would be. Change wasn't that scary when you had a friend to help you through it.
This time, Mccree didn't say anything about her humming.
