"Hey, where were you last night?" Brigitte questioned Gabriel as she sat down with him, her plate of breakfast in hand. "We were looking for you."

"Why'd you need me?" was his reply.

"Because we all were having a big cookout and we wanted everyone to be there! Genji wasn't there because Angela said that he didn't like eating in front of people, because he has a hard time with it, I guess. But nobody could get in touch with you!"

He should really start bringing his phone when he went places.

"Sorry, I was swamped last night."

"I know, but, just so you know you weren't forgotten."

Now, that was sw-Wait a second.

"Moira wasn't there, was she?"

"Well, I wanted to ask her if she could come up and hang out for a little, but Jack said that he didn't want her there. He said she was..." she paused, lowered her voice, and with a nervous chuckle, finished, "a bitch."

"Yeah? And he's a dick."

The Swedish girl sighed. "I just wish everybody could-"

She paused, and when she did, Gabe heard the sound an annoyed voice approaching the cafeteria.

...Moira?

Not a moment later did the person in his thoughts appear, folder in her hands and Jack at her side.

She was in the middle of saying something.

"...dead, I would have done it by now. You're never around, yet you have the audacity to dare lecture me on what's best for him and how to do my job."

They paused at the entrance.

"You're practices are sketchy," Morrison rebutted. "I think I have the right to be skeptical."

"This is past the point of simple skepticism; this is ignorance. You're seeing problems where there are none because of an unjustified bias."

God, she sounded smart even when telling people off, he thought to himself, grinning ever-so-slightly.

"'Unjustified?' You messing with me?" the blonde continued.

"Oh, come on, you can't be this stupid." The redhead looked over in Gabriel's direction and motioned with her finger for him to join them.

"Oh no," Brigitte muttered. "Good luck."

"I think I might need it," he told the brunette, and stood up and marched over to Moira's side.

"I need you to complete this," she said as he arrived, handing him the folder.

Her face was a deep red.

"What are you guys bitching about?"

"Oh, screw it," Jack said, and began walking away from the Dining Hall. "I don't feel like hearing it from the both of you."

He left, and Gabriel was...so confused.

So confused.

Moira spat something in her second tongue before voicing, "It's hard to believe he is Overwatch's Strike Commander. He has the mind of an adolescent."

"What, you're untrustworthy again?"

"He's incredibly opinionated, yet ignorant to facts and details, and decides to form a bias that's grounded in propaganda and sensationalized information. People like him breed stupidity."

Wow.

"Right."

She's so angry.

"You get used to his bullshit after a while."

"Unfortunately, I'm a bit more petulant than you."

She pulled a pen from behind her ear-wait, that was there the entire time?-and handed it to him. "Get working on that. I'm busy at the moment, so if you have any questions, I'll be downstairs. You're brighter than most, however. I genuinely don't believe you'll have any problems."

Her statement made him smile. "Glad I don't look like a Neanderthal to you."

"You are of the rare sort," she grinned, and waved her goodbyes as she traveled to the lab. He waved back (definitely not wishing she would stay and definitely not wishing she would continue to compliment him) before glancing behind him.

Brigitte had already finished both plates of food; there was no point in going back to his original seat.

Deciding on sitting in a secluded section of the room, he opened the folder and glanced through the thick packet of papers within. It wasn't anything interesting (honestly, it didn't even look as if Moira would have fun going through it); questions regarding his general information, if this or that felt sore or numb or normal, illnesses he was vaccinated for; information she was obligated to document. He sighed as he began to print his name on the front page.

"That looks fun."

Gabe whipped his head around, frantically searching for the woman he begged and prayed he didn't just hear.

"Enough, you're making yourself look dumb."

Am I going crazy? he thought for a hot moment, completely horrified.

"Hey," her disembodied, heavily-accented voice started, "I have a suit that lets me go invisible and shit. I'll get you one if you want, but right now you got to stop acting suspicious. I'm trusting you, Gabe. Here, look." He felt a few light pats on his shoulder, and he wasn't sure if it calmed him down or made him worry even more. "See? You're not entirely out of you mind. Now, act like you're reading that."

"How'd you get in here? Is more of Talon here?" he questioned as calmly and non-suspiciously as possible, looking back at his papers.

"No, just me," the Mexican woman replied. "It wasn't easy breaking in here, if it makes you feel better."

It most certainly did not make him feel better.

"But yeah, we're in the area. Don't tell Jack, though. They could figure it out for themselves. See how much I'm trusting you right now?"

He didn't look in her presumed direction as he spoke. "What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you and Ms. Long-Legs. I was going to yesterday, but you guys snuck out somewhere, and I didn't feel like following you."

"You were here for that long?"

"Hey, sleeping in a car isn't as bad as it sounds."

Gabriel heard a soft pat beside him, and the woman's voice now came from his right. "You think you could talk her into sparing a couple minutes?"

He internally laughed-Moira O'Deorain sparing anyone a couple minutes of her precious time? Really?-as he explained to her, "When she's busy, she's busy."

He was even shunned at times, and she has voiced over and over again, directly and indirectly, that his company (at the very least) wasn't despised.

"Tell her it's important."

"And why can't you?"

"Because I don't know where she is!" she silently shouted. "I saw her walking out of here, but I looked back and she was gone."

He hadn't the slightest clue of what that meant.

"Then I saw you and I was like, 'cool, he's even sitting away from everyone.'"

He pondered for a moment. This was technically urgent, right? He was sitting next to a member of Talon (as if that wasn't bad enough) who was deciding to trust them both, apparently.

Still, in the case that this woman is lying, he doesn't want to put the doctor in harms way.

"Are we the only ones you're talking to?" Gabe continued.

"Well, I tried talking to Genji, but he wasn't having any of it. He never ratted me out, though. Probably because of the dirt I have on him." She snickered at her own statement. Himself, on the other hand, was left confused. "You were talking to Genji?"

"Yep."

"Really."

Want to keep a secret for me?

I'm surprisingly quite good at that.

That little fuck.

"Don't call him out on it," the woman went on. "You're doing the same thing."

He looked up to make sure no one was looking his way, then responded with, "I know."

Genji was a good kid. He was troubled and resentful, but a good kid nonetheless.

He was like Gabriel in that way.

"Are we going to see Doctor Whatever-Her-Name-Is or what?"

"O'Deorain, and yeah, come on."

He loved saying her name. Loved it.

Picking up his folder, they traversed Switzerland's Overwatch facility, and as he guided her, she placed small taps (still here) on his back to notify him she was close behind.

He made an effort to glance out the windows and into the open, and as he did so, noticed rioters and picketers surrounded the barrier Athena had so graciously set around the compound.

Each time he viewed such a sight, he felt as if he could punch a hole through the reinforced metal wall.

Ungrateful bastards, have no idea what we've done for you.

A pat on his back stripped him from his thoughts, and that was the moment he realized they stood before an elevator.

Gabe had no fears of stepping into an enclosed space with this person. He was able to change his state of being on the snap of a finger.

He also knew she was the only one present. Her presence he could sense, and her perfume he could smell.

He had to admit it: she smelled quite nice.

"Now people are going to think I put perfume on," Gabriel voiced as they reached the bottom floor. There were no cameras here, and evidently she knew this, because she revealed her being the moment the doors shut. "I didn't put that much on," she said, and waved her hand dismissively. "By the way, I'm Sombra."

She wasn't armed, he noticed, but then again, he could never be entirely sure.

"The hacker?" Gabe interrogated. In recent times, reports of a mysterious individual known only by the alias "Sombra" has appeared, though a face could never be put to the name. The issue has never been brought up due to the hacking having no impact on Overwatch or Talon.

"That's me," she confirmed, "no pictures, though. I don't want to be found out again."

Again?

"And I have something to ask you: I'm thinking of coloring the tips of my hair to match my suit: do you think that would look stupid?" He gave her a look that made her laugh. "I guess I could tell you're not much of a hair guy."

They turned that infamous corner and were met something he thought he never would see: the doors to Moira's lab were left open. Beside them sat a pile of boxes upon boxes.

Was she cleaning out her closet? Wasn't he supposed to help?

"Wait here," Gabriel told Sombra, and he made his way to the near-end of the hall and into the large room, careful of not tipping anything over.

Moira was standing in front of her closet, seemingly scrutinizing its contents. He would have called out to her, alerted her of his being present, but the relatively loud mumbling in her beautiful voice stopped him.

Of course he had to tiptoe closer.

"Perhaps those should go to the back? No, throw everything into the hallway first, Genius. Right, right, of course. That will make sorting much easier. And Gabe could help, as well. Are you certain of that? Yes, because I'll make him." She laughed to herself, then shook her head gently. "You're stalling, Moira. Yes, because I hate this. At least you've started, that's an achievement, is it not? I suppose." The woman nonchalantly glanced over her shoulder and jumped as she noticed his presence.

Now she was the one being startled. How the tables have turned.

"Having fun talking to yourself?" he said smugly. Her ears, cheeks, and the bridge of her nose shined pink. "What do you want, Arsehole?"

"We've got a guest."

"And why is that important to me?"

"Because," he set the folder on one of her desks, "remember that chick who preached to us in Monaco?"

Moira never looked so surprised in her life, he thought.