Brown hues stared back from the mirror as the young man tugged awkwardly at his shirt for the fifth time in under 4 minutes. The sky blue shirt hung from his slender frame awkwardly, the multiple creases doing nothing but highlighting the problem. Letting out a sigh of annoyance, he swept a few strands of brown hair out of his eyes and set about rolling up the sleeves on the shirt to his elbows, his gaze shifting to the tattered cowboy hat on the side embellished with a gold coloured Blackwatch logo and a few lone bullets. He smiled briefly, remembering the argument that had brewed just from his defiance to part with the headpiece. He heard every reason possible for not wearing the 'ghastly' hat, he'd been lectured on how 'It wasn't part of the uniform' or how 'Scruffy and tatty' it looked. Eventually, despite telling the lad how stupid it was to wear a cowboy hat his stubborn attitude had not only earned the respect of his strike commander but also allowed him to keep his hat where it belonged. It was a piece of history, his history, and he'd be dammed to let anyone tell him he couldn't wear it.
Grabbing the dark chest armour from the side he slipped it over his head easily, securely fastening it into place and rolling his eyes as the shirt flared out at the bottom as a result. He had always questioned why the chest armour was more of a breast plate but had only gotten a glare from Reyes which had been enough to silence his question. Besides, the piece had grown on him in recent years and saved his sorry ass from a shot or two, as evidenced by the various scuff marks and the odd bullet hole. Each a reminder of his work, a memento of sorts designed to show his path to redemption. Blackwatch for him was a way of righting his wrongs, and thus far it suited him down to the ground.
A flash of blue in his peripheral vision caught his attention before the air displaced briefly behind him and a metallic taste stung the back of his throat. "Mornin' luv, all set to go?'" the cheery greeting that resounded from the young British woman was inevitable. Despite all she had endured Lena Oxton had never let it drag down her spirit, that fire in her eyes and determination in her heart drove her forward. Today they were not speaking as acquaintances but colleagues.
The young man looked to her, hands resting on his hips "Sure thing. Just when was it Morrison promised me a uniform that doesn't hang off me like an oversized teepee" his response was rough, his southern drawl just completing the rough cowboy look.
Lena looked him up and down with a false seriousness etched on her young features, before her hand went to her lips attempting to stifle a giggle. She averted her gaze briefly before flicking her hair from her eyes "Sorry Luv', it doesn't look that bad though. You'll grow into it eventually" that chipper smile caused the cowboy to roll his eyes sarcastically.
"They've been telling me that since I got here. I see ya got yerself kitted out sumin' proper" his arms folded across his chest after a gentle gesture to the young woman's outfit.
Bright leggings, a brown flight jacket emblazoned with the Overwatch logo and what he'd imagined to be some flight patches. His brown hues focused on the side of her leg, the word Tracer etched in white from her hip to her ankle on the tight orange leggings. "Tracer huh? Yer stickin' with it?"
The Brit smiled and nodded, taking a second to adjust the bright blue device pulsating on her chest. "Yup!" the 'p' popping as a smile spread across her features "Winston said it was fitting, and It's grown on me." Her head tilted gently, strands of hair falling over her eyes softly as she eyed up the cowboy, tapping her index finger against her lip thoughtfully "Hmm, maybe you should make a call-sign for yourself Jesse" she shifted her weight, favouring her left side and resting her hands on her hips, almost as though she were challenging the man.
Jesse chuckled, grabbing his holster from the side and looping them around his waist "If it's alright with you darlin'..." he began, adjusting the left gun holster into a more accessible place at his side before jimmying the right for his flashbangs in the same fashion "I think I'll just stick with the name I've got, needless to say I'm quite fond of it"
He shot her a half smile before taking his revolver from the table, spinning it once between his fingers subtly checking for any damage before quickly slotting it securely into the holster, clipping a few flashbangs onto the other side. His hand rested on the cool metal handle of the peacekeeper as though he expected to need its services within the next few moments. Drawing his gun was muscle memory to him, and just the thought of getting hands on in a mission caused his fingers to twitch briefly, rough fingertips brushing gently over the detail etched into the panelling on the guns handle.
"Mccree!" his name was barked from the door, Jesse jumping briefly at the sudden abuse of his eardrums. Abandoning his brief attempt to strike up an ongoing conversation with Lena he glanced over his shoulder casually, seeing Gabriel Reyes stood there with his arms folded and an unhappy expression etched across his brow.
"Ye' boss?" he asked, turning to the strike commander, aware of Tracer tensing slightly beside him.
"Morrison wants a word" an awkward silence added to the tension on the end of Gabe's sentence and Jesse could have sworn he saw the veins on his strike commander's forehead bulge at the mere mention of Morrisons name. Jesse had nothing against the blonde haired poster boy of Overwatch, but considering the opportunity to redeem himself had come from Reyes, his loyalty would reside with Blackwatch unless proven otherwise.
"Sure thing, let me jest-'"
"-Now Mccree! Room 13!"
Mccree knew that tone of voice when he heard it, his attention snapping back to his strike commander before he nodded once. "Yes Boss…." He answered with a cocky two fingered salute, biting hard on a smirk after seeing the annoyance on Gabriels face before finally the man skulked off down the hall, the sound of the males' boots echoing ominously in the hall. He heard Lena let out a small breath behind him, the cowboy shaking his head before glancing to Lena with an apologetic shrug. "S'pose I'd best go see what he wants. I'll catch up with you later" he promised, taking a few steps towards the door before that familiar blue light flashed and the wind tugged at his back.
His head turned to look behind, seeing no sign of the Brit before he smirked and shook his head. She was certainly getting the hang of her abilities, in fact nowadays he was pretty sure she never walked anywhere, preferring to quite literally skip ahead through time so she could get the practice. A final glance while he took a step forward saw him collide directly into Lena, the sudden contact and invasion of space startling him into stepping back before he scowled at her "Dammit Lena….You keep doin' that we're guna have a problem…" Jesse said a hand placing on her arm to gentle her aside before the girl slapped his hat on his head, tugging it over his eyes somewhat.
"Thought you might want this?" she said with a grin, watching the cowboy tug the hat into position with his left hand and a surprised look in his eyes.
"Uh…Thanks" he said before Tracer stepped back flamboyantly.
"Don't mention it love! Cheerio…" a flash of blue and the echo of her laugh was all that remained as she blinked down the hallway out of sight.
Jesse frowned in amusement unable to hide the sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips before he adjusted his hat again briefly "Cheerio…." He murmured, amused by the phrase before he began to walk in the other direction, the sound of his boots echoing almost ominously in the empty hall.