Tracer's not the serious type, likes to find a bit of fun in everything. Life ain't worth the livin' otherwise. So when the idea occurs to her as she looks down at the prone would-be assassin, Tracer's grinning all Cheshire-like.
It's a full second after blinking down and making a pillow of the Widowmaker's bum that the woman realises she's there. That's a long time. Tracer has a right laugh at Lacroix's face when she turns and sees her, makes a show of snugglin' betwixt her buttocks. Ha! That a blush creeping up on her cheeks? The Frenchwoman doesn't give her time enough to tell. Spins round like her head's on a swivel and sticks an eye on her guy. 'Course Tracer knows who she's out to off today: Gunther Siegel, prominent financial backer of Winston's research into chronal acceleration.
That's a tidbit Lacroix ought not to know. Tracer ain't surprised she does.
The choice of target has her a bit miffed though. Stopping Mr. Siegel's brains being splattered across his desk is Tracer practically protecting an investment! After all, only thing keeping her pinned in this reality is Winston's tech strapped to her chest.
Trust Lacroix to make it personal.
She's there and then she's not, and Lacroix jerks backwards as a boot swings out of nowhere and leathers her rifle halfway across the rooftop. Her eyes immediately dart after it as her visor snaps open - too late though 'cause Tracer's already there waiting as the yet-to-be-fired weapon skitters into reach of her eager mitts.
"Righ'," she says, turning it over in her hands, "how'd you do this again…? Aha!" Tracer soon finds the switch and converts the sniper rifle into a fully automatic machine gun. Her grin spreads wide as she aims from the hip. "Stick 'em up, pet!"
Obviously, Lacroix doesn't quite get the concept. Hands go up, sure, enough to fling out a length of wire that snaps through the air and wraps around Tracer's prize. Her elation is short lived as the gun gets yanked straight out of her hands. Two seconds later Lacroix is standing tall with the dangerous end pointing right at her. Her face is doing that funny thing where it pinches like she wants to be annoyed, except the woman doesn't let herself feel.
"You, again."
Tracer smiles nervously. "Bollocks."