Amelie Lacroix is not one to take vacations. Whatever Talon demands, she proceeds, only finding importance in the mission and the thrill of the moment, letting her bullets connect with its victim and sending an explosion of excitement into her ice cold veins.

So it’s inevitable that she pouts near the snow resort, unable to comprehend why Sombra would ever suggest a quick break in the snowy alps while they were moving locations, and it’s even more unclear why Doomfist even bothered agreeing. Useless, she’d mutter while packing her bags so precariously, lost in touch with her emotion since… well, it’s best not to talk of Gerard.

She fancies you though, in a way that’s at least flattering since she scoffs at Sombra, throws disgusting glances at Mauga, even seeming uncomfortable in the presence of Moira— it seems all Talon agents disliked each other to a certain degree, but at least she was nice to you, and sometimes you’d even see her quietly chatting up Reaper, though it was never anything more than platonic or strictly business.

Pulling up next to her at the resort as she stands outside, narrowing her eyes with an upturned nose at Sombra hacking into a cash register with Mauga next to her, you can see the disappointment laced in the purse of her lips, like a proactive mother. Amelie holds a snowboard in one hand, goggles over her purple hair that’s hidden beneath a snow cap, brushing her fingers over a weird spot on her turtleneck and jacket, fluffed inside. Looks comfy.

She averts her eyes to you for a second, before staring straight at the two trouble makers a bit away, talking lowly so they don’t hear her, “Idiots.”