Chapter Text
Tongue sticking out in deep concentration, Brigitte Lindholm threaded a delicate niobium wire to repair the incredibly finicky and complicated circuitry of a disassembled hard light generator. It was the kind of delicate work she had little talent – and even less patience – for and it took a great deal of effort not to just throw up her hands. Give her a hammer over tweezers any day!
So focused was the engineer that she failed to notice the door to her improvised workshop open. "Men va fan..." she muttered, annoyed that her soldering iron wasn't where she expected it to be.
Only when Brigitte abandoned the delicate operation to search for the missing tool did the visitor raise her voice: "Looking for something?"
"Uh? Oh sorry Fareeha, I didn't see you there," the Swede said sheepishly. Dressed in her usual tank top and baggy fatigues, Pharah was holding a plasboard crate in front of her. One could be forgiven for thinking it was full of vile garbage judging by her expression and how she carried it.
"Is something the matter?" Brigitte wondered. With a sweep of her beefy arm she cleared enough space on her desk for Pharah to put down her bothersome load.
The security officer complied with a sigh and sat down opposite Brigitte. She rubbed her temple wearily.
"What's in the box?" Brigitte inquired, stretching to try and peer over the top.
"More contraband." Pharah flopped backward in her seat. Staring at the ceiling, she elaborated on her predicament: "I haven't been able to get a hold of Dr. Ziegler the last two days, so I have no idea what to do with it."
In an effort to combat the expanding waistlines around the base, Mercy had instituted a crackdown to combat the smuggling of unhealthy treats. Honest and reliable, Pharah had been chosen as her enforcer, rooting out pernicious pastries and corrupting chocolates wherever they were hidden.
Eyeing the crate hungrily, Brigitte licked her lips: "Just leave it with me."
Fareeha sat back up and folded her powerful arms: "Didn't you say the incinerator is broken?"
"What are you talking abo-ohhh..." Surreptitiously trying to fish out a candy bar, Brigitte's blithe mien was suddenly struck with sudden realization. "Uhm, right... yeah... I did say that, huh."
Previously, when Pharah had suggested destroying the deliciously devious goods, Brigitte's conscience could not bear the thought. So she had told a little white lie...
"Either way, it's a shame to waste food!" the engineer admonished her companion before biting into a liberated chocolate bar. Pharah knew from experience that the Swede was sincere in this sentiment: Already the pinched chocolate had vanished and she was rummaging around for another treat. Even having known her for several weeks, Brigitte never ceased to surprise Fareeha with her incredible appetite.
Pharah knew she shouldn't let Brigitte get away with stealing confiscated goods like this, but couldn't bring herself to say anything. Saving her from a near-fatal encounter with Talon's Reaper, rebuilding her sundered Raptora suit afterwards; she owed the Swedish engineer a lot. On top of that, she just didn't want Brigitte to think ill of her...
Speaking of which: When a cookie pack was thrust into her face, Fareeha reluctantly accepted. She just couldn't say no to Brigitte's enthusiasm. "There you go! Much better than burning it all, yeah?"
Pharah nodded slowly and bit into a cookie. Just a couple surely couldn't hurt... It was a thought that was starting to feel quite familiar whenever she was around Brigitte. The jolly girl just had that effect on her. Thinking about it, she seemed to have that effect on a lot of people here at Gibraltar...
"This is way too much for anyone to eat, even two people," Fareeha countered, gesturing towards the large crate with a half-eaten cookie. "And even if we could, remember there's a reason why Dr. Ziegler has me dealing with all this stuff. We don't want anyone else to end up like Miss Oxton."
The observation brought a distant look to Brigitte face as she stuffed it with meringue pie. She didn't seem particularly quick to agree with Fareeha's proclamation. Licking sweet crumbs off her fingers, she eventually stirred from her reverie.
"You don't have to worry about me," the Swede grinned and tugged at her top to show off how it read "I like exercise because I love eating". It had rolled up a little and obscured the text, bunched up over a conspicuous bulge that had not been there before she came to Gibraltar.
Fareeha cleared her throat, trying not to stare at her companion's stout midsection. "Of course, of course. I... uhm... I didn't mean it like that." To distract herself, she popped another cookie into her mouth. "Speaking of, I was thinking we might do some more physical exercise when we meet up in the training hall tomorrow? It feels like all we've been doing is testing out the new Raptora suit and... well... don't get me wrong, I think it's great!" Pharah made a wry face: "Maybe almost, I don't know... too great? I don't even break a sweat using it!"
"Thanks, I'm still pretty proud of it," Brigitte grinned. Her grin quickly took on a sly cast: "Is it wrong for me to want to see such power and grace in motion?"
Eyes wide, Fareeha gobbled up the last cookie and stood up hurriedly. Awkwardly she tugged at her own shirt which also seemed to have slipped up a little, for some strange reason. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks.
"Ah, well I'd better try Dr. Ziegler again! Yes!" the security officer babbled and scrambled towards the crate of treats. "I suppose I'll have to let her handle this, as usual."
Brigitte hated seeing the delicious container go, but didn't say anything and instead contented herself to watching Fareeha leave.