Working for Talon was a struggle. You weren't alone in that sentiment, the only people who enjoyed their work were Moira, Doomfist, and Sigma. Sigma wasn't in his right mind, though. You didn't count him in the list.
Despite it being a generally poorly received organization, Talon had its fair share of people you enjoyed on a more personal level. Sigma was one of the first, but he was pretty friendly with everyone. Mauga and Baptiste, however, had taken a liking to you.
Mauga was very different from Baptiste. Twice the size and three times as loud, Mauga hogged a lot of the attention between the pair. Baptiste always stood out to you, though. He was the star mercenary—but not just some average killer, no. He was careful.
Baptiste was calm and collected with perfect timing and skillful aim. He was so dangerous on the battlefield and so attentive when necessary, and that was always alluring to you. It was aided in the fact that the attraction seemed mutual.
Baptiste was a surprisingly forward and charming man. Nothing too serious had sprouted from the interactions you'd both shared, much like the flirtatious teasing that Mauga often subjected you to. It was still nice.
Baptiste was sitting by you in one of the Talon meeting rooms. Most of the others had cleared out, leaving you to your own semi-secluded corner. He prayed Mauga would leave the two of you alone, since he never got much genuine alone time.
"Talon has Overwatch in a bit of a chokehold here," He finally speaks up, that smooth voice stilling the air, his Haitian accent slipping into every syllable. "The battle, as much as I hate saying so, is still going to be quite difficult, kè mwen."
He sighs, leaning back in the seat and folding his hands behind his head. "Qu'est-ce qu'on va faire de toi..." He mutters to himself. He often spoke Creole and French, but usually only when he was serious or his mind had drifted elsewhere.