Junkrat lay awake that night, emotions still pecking at him like buzzards.
The look on her face was one beyond devastation, as though he held her very heart in his clutches.
His hand fists against his sternum, the pressure of her touch still lingering on his dappled skin. Her voice, raw like a wound, reverberated in his ears like the howl of winter's wind. What had made her react like that? Rolling over in his bed, he turned to face Roadhog, who was doing his nightly reading.
"Oi."
The beast of a man ignored him, comically oversized fingers thumbing gingerly through a copy of Jane Eyre, a reading light clipped to the side of his leather mask. His peppery hair was unbound, falling just to his shoulders in gleaming silvery threads, and he sported only a pair of pig-patterned pajamas.
"Fucks sake, mate, listen, wouldja!?"
Roadhog sighed, bookmarking his page, and turned to face his partner in crime.
"What is it this time, 'Rat? Out of tapioca again?"
Junkrat rolled his eyes, scrunching his nose at Mako's snark.
"Har-dee-har, very funny, fuckwit. No. 've gotta question for ya, actually."
When his friend didn't reply, Junkrat took his silence as the signal to keep going.
"You know anything about that little doe-eyed science chick? Leeah? Mia, is it?"
Again, the beast sighs, pressing a finger to his temple.
'Her name's Mei, 'Rat. Mei-Ling."
Junkrat clicks his tongue, sitting up and undoing the clasps of his harness, letting it slide off his shoulders and carefully setting it onto the floor beside him. His fingers set to work on rubbing away the marks it left on his skin, rough nylon leaving his flesh pink and chaffed.
"Whatever. Anyway, the fuck's her deal?"
His question makes Roadhog still, slowly turning his hidden face to look at Junkrat.
"What do you mean?", he says, voice gruff and doubtful.
At this, Junkrat grumbles irritably and turns his eyes away from Mako, thin fingers scratching the base of his neck awkwardly.
"W-well…...I was only just messin' with her, yeah? And all of a sudden she flips her lid! You'da thought she'd seen the devil himself!"
Roadhog gives him a steely glare.
"Messing with her?"
Junkrat shifts in his seat, unsettled by the feeling of Roadhog's cold, heavy stare on his face.
"Yeah, just playin' around y'know? Plucked the lil bauble thingy offa 'er head and all of a sudden she goes ballistic! Was only jokin' with her."
Roadhog is silent at first, but then draws in a long breath.
"Jamison."
Junkrat's fingers curl at the sound of his given name coming from his companion's thunderous voice. Roadhog was always unpredictable, especially when Junkrat had done something stupid.
"Y….yeah, 'hog?", he asks quietly.
"Try not to fuck this one up."
Junkrat turns and looks at him, tentative confusion evident in his slack, cowed face.
"Eh?"
A deep exhale hisses from beneath Roadhog's mask, his enormous fingers still poised over the fragile spine of his book.
"You heard me. We've got something good going here. Good pay. Beds, here. Food, here. Unless you miss spending the night in my sidecar, I suggest you watch your mouth around these people. Don't give any of them a reason to mistrust us. We're not exactly their first pick. They'd gladly turn us out on our asses by morning."
Junkrat groans in annoyance, mussing his soot-covered blonde mop of hair in his hands and flopping down in a childlike fuss onto his mattress.
"Dammit Roadie, ya know i'm no fuckin' diplomat, right?"
"Don't have to be. Just don't raise any alarms."
Jamie sighs, pulling a thin blanket over his head. Roadhog could be such a hardass sometimes.
"What do you suppose I do about the dame then, huh? Little ol' Ming or whatever the fuck it was?"
He swallows thickly, not wanting to face the hollow look in her ink-dark eyes again.
"Mei-Ling," Roadhog breathes, " And just act decent for once."
"Right, right, decent. Next you'll want me sportin' a tophat and monocle, yeah? Sippin' a fuckin Gin n' Tonic, flippin' through a copy of King Lear?"
Just then, Roadhog's dense book sails through the air, connecting smartly with the back of Junkrat's skull, earning a pained squawk from the mouthy lump of blanket.
"Wiseass."