milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Whoops!"

Did Sombra dart forward to catch Gabriel before he fully hit the floor?

Was she always standing right there?

Who can say!

"You do not seem well, my friend."

"Fucking nitro paste," he mumbles angrily, trying to wipe his hand on his pants as the world spins. "Just need a minute."

It is not the first time this has happened. Fortunately the tinkering the doctors have done with his metabolism means this won't last nearly as long as it should.

"I would say longer than that," Sombra says simply, "As you do not seem to me to be a man in need of an application of nitro paste."

Is she attempting to drag him to the left, toward the couch and the fireplace and some fabric that is not touching his flesh that he can scrub the paste on?

It is entirely possible.

(He is very heavy.)

He is very well muscled.

Also he is maybe being dragged? He turns his attention to her and kind of regrets it because wow, that is a lot of bright colors.

"'m not. Fucking prank war. What are you doing?" He's not resisting her tugging, but he can't exactly help right now either.

"Getting you somewhere that will keep people from kicking you in the ass when they come through the door."

Sombra beams down at him, teeth gleaming whitely in her dark and well-made-up face.

(Today her colors are greens and blues. Very, very bright greens and aqua blues.)

"Or the head."

The couch is just a few more feet away. A pity that translocating would give too much of the game away far too early.

Alas.

He would be very confused.

As it is, he's still confused. "Oh."

He tries to help. Poorly.

"Thanks."

"No, no. Just push with your feet and leave the rest to me."

If you twist too much she will drop you, Gabe.

"Oof. On three, yes?"

"Sure," he says, head rolling in loose nod. He keeps getting shadows at the edge of his vision if he moves too fast.

He's considering killing someone once his blood pressure comes back up.

"One," Sombra says, bracing herself in preparation.

"Two."

She shifts her grip on his armpits so that she can get her whole body behind this shove that's coming.

"Three."

And on three, tension tight in her voice, she pushes up and does her damnedest to get Gabe on the maldito sofá.

He helps!

Kinda.

He is not completely dead weight at least. Together they shove his torso onto the cushions, neck at an awkward angle as his head is shoved against the back. His beanie gets knocked askew.

He blinks a few times, waiting for his vision to come back and for the feeling like the world is falling to pass. His legs are stable enough to keep him from sliding off again.

"Here."

Sombra shoves a small throw cushion under his paste-covered hand.

"Wipe your hand on that. I will burn it after."

This is not a comfortable position, Sombra!

But he does as he is told and wipes the rest of the paste off on the pillow as best he can.

Sombra moves it to the side once Gabe seems to be done, then does her best to haul his legs up onto the couch as well.

"Maybe try bending your knees? You are a little bit too long, like this."

She steps back to study him carefully, humming a little under her breath.

"And maybe we can fix your neck, too. Though I am not sure about that."