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“You.”
Sombra smiles at her tone, moves on the bed – Zarya’s bed – and waits for the wrestler to make the first move. Zarya just stares at her. She is wearing a white tank top, opposed to the usual armor, and it shows a little more of her body. There’s a piece of her tattoo on her right boob that Sombra didn’t know existed before and, at that moment, it becomes her new goal to figure out what parts of her body are covered in ink.
“Katya couldn’t make it.” Sombra gets up, her pace slow towards the bigger girl. Zarya’s not wearing an armor, but Sombra knows it would take little to no time for her to crush her and no brain could save her from it. Zarya is the physical type. “She apologizes for her absence on your… Meeting.”
“What are you doing here?” The pink-haired woman asks and her entire face is a frown, Sombra can tell she’s looking around the room and foreseeing every possible outcome of their silent battle. The way her eyes scan the room remind her of herself – that’s a side effect of growing up as a pawn. She gets closer to the woman, way closer than her brain tells her is safe to, and Zarya’s jawline sets. “I asked you a question.” She says, her accent even thicker on the edges.
Sombra’s about to find out how it feels to be crushed.
“A question I chose not to answer, Alex.” She smiles. Her fingers touch the woman’s chin and she pushes her face up a little. “I can call you Alex, right?”
Zarya’s hands go to her wrist so fast Sombra has to catch her breath. “No, you can’t.” The woman says. Sombra’s smile falter a little bit and she can only hope the woman didn’t notice it – her enemies don’t usually touch her. Her enemies don’t usually see her getting close before she shoots them down or brings them to her side. They say every war has two sides, but this one has many, many sides with many layers, and one of them belongs to her entirely.
She had been a pawn most of her life – let them be her pawns for once.
“Zarya, then.” She proceeds and the way Zarya looks at her would make Reaper shit on his pants. “You’re so dense, calm down a little, chica, I’m not your enemy.”
“You’re in my room.”
“Do your enemies usually visit your room?” The question is a bullet and by the way Zarya’s eyebrows arch, she knows she hit the right spot. “You might need to bring a friend in here, for a change.”
“You’re not my friend.” Her grip tightens on her wrist. Sombra looks down at it, her eyes shoot a order for the woman to let her go and, against what Sombra is used to, her order is not answered.
“I could be.” She meets her eyes, both of them staring at each other with a intensity of a battle. In the seconds they look at each other there’s an explosion, a gunfight and no one wins. In the seconds, that feel like minutes, they look at each other, Sombra can’t help but to wonder how rewarding it would be to have Zarya disarmed in front of her, her muscles crumbling under her touch. Russia’s pride and joy taken down by the very same fingers Zarya is now obstructing from touching her skin. “Katya is using you, Z., how about fighting back for once?”
“Your words are all lies.” Her voice is firm, but that’s pretty much all that’s firm about the statement. People like Zarya shouldn’t be thrown in the middle of this game – her eyes tell you her entire story. Her eyes, right now, let Sombra know she is considering her proposal.
“They’re not and you know it, hermosa.” Spanish slips out of tongue and it feels like home. Home is a peace offer, is a we’re both foreigners here. We’re both out of our comfort zone. “Could you please let go of my hand?” She smiles and Zarya lets go of her wrists slowly, as if that decision could either doom her of free her.
“Katya’s going to ask you to go to Germany, I need a favor.” She massages her wrists while she speaks, her tone is at ease, but her skin will carry Zarya’s fingerprints on it. Zarya takes a step back, as if Sombra’s toxic and she likes that she scares her. “I didn’t agree to it yet.” Is all she says.
And it’s enough for Sombra to know that, in this layer of the war, the layers that’s sprawled over Zarya’s room, she won.