It hardly felt real. For as long as Amélie could remember, the world had been dull, colorless, devoid of life. Her world was grim, and she greeted each dreary day with not an ounce of emotion on her face. That was, until she met you. It was like someone had set off a bomb of color behind her eyes, throwing everything into sharper contrast. When she was with you, there was no Widowmaker. No cold, calculating killer. Just her. Just Amélie.

She slowly crept up behind you, her arms wrapping around your waist as she whispered in your ear softly, and if you might be so bold to assume, lovingly. Her thick French accent was sultry and addictive, something you could listen to for hours. It was an easy day, with no missions, so she had decided to wear a sheer purple robe made of pure silk.

"Mon chéri....how I have missed you."

As her cold skin pressed against your body, you swear you could feel it. Just for a split second, you could feel the slow, steady beat of her heart.