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[nostalgiabomb]

( x )

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[twelveoclock]

Must get lonely.

Sounds like ya got yourself a team, though.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He shrugs a shoulder. ]

We're no Overwatch, but, yeah. We make do.

[twelveoclock]

Overwatch ain't the best measure of a team, trust me.

If y'all got each others backs, there's nothin' more you could ask for.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ This time when he turns, he gives McCree a long, measuring look, expression mostly neutral, before letting out a breath. ]

You ever gonna tell me where we're actually going?

[twelveoclock]

Gibraltar. That's where Winston's at, and the tech t' hail your crew.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ For all his talk of having a vague idea of where things are, Peter frowns at the mention of Gibraltar, clearly at a loss. ]

That's where your headquarters are, or whatever?

[twelveoclock]

Such as it is, yeah. It’s kinda a work in progress.

[nostalgiabomb]

So we hail my team, and then what? You're just gonna let us wander back off into the sunset?

[twelveoclock]

Dunno. You got any reason we should make ya stick around?

[nostalgiabomb]

Other than the sheer pleasure of my company, you mean?

[twelveoclock]

I recall sayin' I shoulda left you in the crater at one point, so no.

[nostalgiabomb]

Then probably not.

[ which is mostly a lie. They're a ragtag group of mostly reformed criminals, sure, but their knowledge and expertise has proven invaluable from time to time.

Peter shrugs. ]

We're just tryin' to get by. Same as anyone.

[twelveoclock]

It still might be useful to know what you were doin' up there in the first place. Any bad guys we gotta worry about?

[nostalgiabomb]

There are always bad guys to worry about.

[ A pause. ]

Anything happen with that thing that crashed on the moon?

[twelveoclock]

No idea. Winston's been monitorin' it, but if he found anything, I haven't heard about it yet.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He lets out a breath, some of the tension bleeding away from his shoulders.

Dryly, ] Then the planet Earth is safe from the alien menace. Aside from me, that is.

[twelveoclock]

Yer a menace all right.

But, hypothetically speakin', what kinda bad guys would we be dealin' with?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Another pause. ]

Well. The guys I ran into were a bunch of dickwads with laser guns and plans for bigger and badder weapons. Terrorists, I guess. A splinter group that may or may not have splattered themselves on the moon.

[twelveoclock]

[ Now there's a group of guys that would get on famously with the deadlocks ]

So that stuff you been totin' around would be, what--?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His eyes flit over to the case, sitting at the foot of the couch; somehow it made its way to the cabin while he was busy being treated. When his gaze returns to McCree, his expression turns wary. ]

Data. Plans. [ For those weapons he mentioned specifically. ] Information on where they'd be going next.

[twelveoclock]

[ He catches that expression and holds his hands up ] Just tryin' to get a feelin' for what you n' your team do.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ It takes a few seconds, but Peter lets his wariness drop away. ]

So long as that's all you're doing, then we're fine.

[twelveoclock]

You are a mighty suspicious person, you know that?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He shrugs both shoulders, looking unperturbed. ]

Force of habit.

[twelveoclock]

Uh-huh. Not like we could arrest ya or somethin' even if we wanted to. We don't exist anymore, remember?