Thread: Overwatch, Reaper and Windowmaker (Vulgrim x allycat)

Reaper raised a brow behind his mask, though she couldn't see it. Eyes narrowed, the ghostly-looking man watched her with extreme interest as she dug through her bag, pulling out yet another catsuit. Sure, that made sense. Widowmaker was a professional, after all. There wasn't anything strange about that. When the corset came, though, he blinked, then flinched slightly as the cable zoomed past his head and landed itself in the wall of their little ship, his head slowly turning to look at it. Hmph. A glance back at Widowmaker. He watched her lace the corset. How... chic . He'd kept forgetting that she was from Paris. Well, even the deadliest assassins couldn't shake their sense of beauty, he guessed. Interesting choice of attire, though. Reaper leaned back in his seat, legs crossed. Aren't you sore? he mocked, sounding annoyed. I already gave you two good fuckings. He had to give her credit, he supposed she wasn't shy, and she certainly didn't hold back. Reaper wasn't sure if he'd be able to go for a round three with her. Back in Gerard and Amelie's room, Winston frowned. The man listened to Tracer, and knew that she was right. When Lena finished speaking, his shoulders slumped, and he almost didn't notice she was behind him until he felt her touch on his back. No, Winston admitted, rather sheepishly. I thought about it, but... I didn't want to suggest to Gerard that maybe his wife had been brainwashed. A look over his shoulder and at the brown-haired girl. I should've convinced him. Maybe... if I'd just been a little more careful... he trailed off, putting the blame on himself. Someone had to carry the guilt, after all. Amelie certainly wasn't... Hm? When Lena suggested staying in the carriage house -- together, over night, all alone -- Winston actually blushed, his greyish skin turning red for a moment. Er -- well, I... He fixed his glasses and cleared his throat, frowning. I really should get back to the lab, I've... I've got... He tried to come up with some excuse -- an excuse -- to dodge spending a night alone with Lena, hoping some deep feelings for her wouldn't surface, but when she began to frown at the sign of rejection, his heart ached and he just couldn't refuse her. Winston cherished her too much for that. Well, alright, he finally said, managing a small smile. But they better be some good tires. Gerard kept a few banana trees in the garden, too, planted there for Winston specifically. The tropical plant looked a bit strange amongst the otherwise medieval home, gut the man had insisted. Come on. With that, he scooped Lena up in his large arm, then placed the woman on his shoulder. There was just enough room for her to sit there and he made his way towards the window of the bedroom. The fact that they were on the third floor didn't bother him a few well-placed hops and swings and they were down, though he'd dropped Lena halfway. Before she had a chance to hit the grass, he caught her in both arms and let out a small chuckle, setting her on her feet again. Careful, he teased, looking around. The carriage house wasn't much further. What are we going to do in a a carriage house? he asked, wondering if Tracer had any ideas. I'm so used to my lab... He said it sheepishly. Winston relied heavily on technology to get most of his entertainment fixes. What were they to do in a old, rustic place like this? She probably had a few ideas.