She doesn't say it out loud, doesn't interrupt him as he's spelling it out, but for all the faults Sombra has, being dispassionate isn't one of them: the look on her face is troubled, unsettled— disgusted, maybe. One of her closest companions is a living, breathing corpse, the other is brainwashed and halfway dead if her slowed heart is a sign of anything. She knows messed up.
And this? This is messed up.
She meets his stare for a moment, hesitating to say it before the word slips out slowly from between her teeth— wanting to be wrong on some distant, humane level:]
no subject
She doesn't say it out loud, doesn't interrupt him as he's spelling it out, but for all the faults Sombra has, being dispassionate isn't one of them: the look on her face is troubled, unsettled— disgusted, maybe. One of her closest companions is a living, breathing corpse, the other is brainwashed and halfway dead if her slowed heart is a sign of anything. She knows messed up.
And this? This is messed up.
She meets his stare for a moment, hesitating to say it before the word slips out slowly from between her teeth— wanting to be wrong on some distant, humane level:]
Trauma.