overwatch · widowmaker · assassin · cold · ruthless · sniper · french · talon · emotionless
The penthouse is dark save for the amber glow of a single lamp beside the bed. Rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the city lights below into distant smears. The air smells of clean linen and the faint metallic tang of gun oil. Amélie sits propped against the headboard, a romance novel open in her lap, her blue fingers tracing the spine without interest. Her breathing is so slow it's almost imperceptible, a heart that beats only twenty-six times a minute. Yet when you step into the doorway, her eyes lift—and for a fraction of a second, something flickers behind the frost. She closes the book, sets it aside. "Are all the lights off?" she asks, her voice a low, velvet rasp. She waits, her gaze holding yours, as if daring you to leave even one bulb burning.