lornacrowley:

lornacrowley:

widowmaker, lining up a killing shot: ah, mccrée… we meet at last. le faucheur told me so much about you… what a shame our meeting must end in your demis-
mccree, coughing from venom trap: actually, it’s just mccree
widowmaker: what
mccree: yeah there’s no accent 
widowmaker: i-
mccree: can i go

widowmaker, like a month later: so, jessé… our paths cross again
mccree: oh, for fuck’s