Video | Forward dated to the 12th

[hammernhasslehoff]

Mal sehen, ob ich mich erinnere.... Otacon! I have for you an update on what the shift is for me, during Iris.

[The man ducks his head just a touch, and the base of what appear to be very large, very imposing antlers are visible for a moment. Apparently it would take a bit of effort to actually display the entire rack, just judging by the sheer girth of the base of those antlers. Less visible, but still obviously there? The base of a pair of fluffy, off white colored lop ears.]

I would show you in person, if you like, but I would need eh... A little bit of time to get ready. Leaving the apartment has become... a bit more complicated than usual. I am not clear on the anatomy of antlers, I do not think you can just file them down to fit through doors.

... Ah, with complicated in mind! Gabriel, I have a favor I would like to ask of you! I will pay you back, I have no button up shirts. Would you be able to get one or... three for me? I did not come prepared for this, I fear.

Comments

[cadeuces]

( Her arms circle his neck with ease as he stoops to meet her, nails sifting into fine white hair and grinning against his cheek as he picks her right up and squeezes. Her own grip isn't nearly so tight, but it's just as affectionate as her feet kick up behind her and that chuckle of his rumbles right against her.

Some soft little sound is sighed right out of her, content and deeply pleased for the warmth of him circling her, his arm nearly broad enough to cover her back where it bends up to brace her. (Or maybe it's that bear hug pressure that keeps her from much more.) The chroma of this place only makes it feel even better. Like stars under their skin wherever they touch and skittering off along her nerves, nuzzling against his cheek to rest her head down on her arm over his shoulder, beard rough at her temple as he draws the chair out and moves to sit.

She draws her legs up with a bit of a twist to curl further, as he didn't move to set her down and she wasn't letting go, either. No, this way she's curled up in his lap with her legs up under her for the added height, saving him from having to crane too far forward. Her hold loosens only a little, hand still in his hair but the other draws back to scritch at his beard, letting him see her smile once more as she rests her weight against him anew. )

Eight years is entirely too long to have only heard that you're in good health via Christmas cards from "the happy hearth of the Lindholms". But I'm pleased to see it was no consolation.

( Angela doesn't want to ask him to start from his forced retirement; she'd still been in contact with him, then. Everyone asked her how he was, and she only urged them to reach out and speak to him. The unraveling of Overwatch that followed was just as sour a subject, so: )

Why don't you start with Brigitte and that hideous little van Ingrid wrote to me about? When you first acquired that and her assistance.

( She wants to hear everything, eventually, but they can circle back to the harder memories another time. She just wants to know he's been happy. Only Reinhardt could make a 37 year old woman feel like a little girl in his lap, but she isn't going to shun the closeness in the least. It's nice. )

[hammernhasslehoff]

[It was something he was growing quite attached to, the feeling of chroma whenever he touched someone. Granted, he was always an affectionate man regardless, but the extra little reward for being so was certainly all the more encouragement. She'd get a chaste, welcoming kiss at the temple, before he'd actually sit.

Settled, he couldn't quite bring himself to take his hands off her, not yet. She didn't ask, so he wouldn't think of it, keeping both hands gently, lightly at her hips.]

Vergib mir, I know I was not the most attentive.

[He'd not be making excuses either, he could have tried to at least call. But here they were now, with all the time in the world to catch up, and he was going to make the most of it, starting with-]

Don't speak ill of noble Rocinante! Brigitte has done wonders on that van, she's beautiful!

[Fake offense, it's impossible to not hear the laughter behind those words, and he's barely put any effort into the scowl, not when it was apparent he'd much rather be beaming]

I wish I could show you her, I do not believe I have any pictures with me...

[Yes he took pictures of that van, his darling baby goddaughter worked on that van, that's the best van in the universe, though despite his words, he's still going shift around to check his pockets, enjoy the ride, Angela]

If I have my old phone maybe?

[cadeuces]

( No, this is just fine, really. A bit beyond typical boundaries, but they're both comfortable and she's sure he'll appreciate it and the warmth of the energy kindled with their contact just as she does. It's a strange place to be and he's only just arrived, so she wants to help him feel at ease if she can. His apology just has her shaking her head as her smile lingers, though. )

All the agents were forbidden from contacting one another after it was dismantled; we weren't to risk the thought of the agents rebelling or trying some ridiculous coup or another. I'm not sure what the U.N. expected. I'm equally as guilty for not reaching out. I didn't want to bring that down on you. It is very nice to have you now, and to know you've been well. You look as healthy as ever.

( He gets an easy pat of slender fingers at his nape as her thumb smooths along his hair, gone nearly all white. He speaks the name of the van and she laughs, shaking her head. What a choice! He's no Don Quixote. He's still a perfectly ferocious lion. )

I would imagine she has; I've heard she's wonderfully skilled and saw a bit of it myself. She was here for a few weeks before supposedly returning home. It was good to see her again all grown up. Ingrid, however, was quite critical of the poor vehicle.

( She hears it, her own giggle already bubbling up to the attempted stern expression. Moreso when he's shifting side to side to check his pockets and she has to cling to him a bit tighter lest she lose her balance, precariously sat atop her legs curled up across his thighs. )

Oh! That's right, I had mine as well. I can show you some of the Middle East and some of the fundraising galas I attended. )

[hammernhasslehoff]

I have done well to care for myself, and Brigitte has done well to remind me when I forget. She becomes so fussy, I have raised a mother hen.

[He loves that kid so goddamn much. There's new scars of course, under the button up shirt. He'd been busy these past several years after all, and not everything he's been doing has been easy. Still, there weren't a lot of sixty one year old men who were in as good a shape as Reinhardt.]

And you are as ever, radiant, Angela. Please, tell me of the Middle East, show me these pictures! I haven't attended anything more formal than a birthday party in years.

[Ah, there it is! It's a little worse for wear. The screen is fine but the case (an exceptionally heavy duty one) loops openly worn, chipped and scraped and dented all over. Reinhardt's as healthy as ever, but that phone is a different story.]

You first.

[cadeuces]

I'm glad you've had someone under your wing; she seems to have grown up into a wonderful young lady. It's good she minded you.

( Angela's quite certain there are zero sixty-one year old men in as good a shape as Reinhardt, really. She hears the fondness in his voice as he speaks of Brigitte and she remembers the young woman here, fidgeting in her kitchen and re-washing dishes as she grilled Angela on what to do over liking a boy, and she just smiles softly. It would've been good to see them here, together, but she's sure Brigitte would have possibly exploded in embarrassment with her godfather and "liege" on hand to gauge her partners and swear them to good behavior.

Perhaps it's for the best. Now, those pictures... she'd transferred some over to this new device, so let her fish some up. It's mostly campsites and other doctors around little fires, the occasional picture of her in formal dresses sleek over the shape of her body presented with some award or check or another. Some posing with soldiers or militia boys grinning with chocolate bars in hand. )

It was about the same as it's been for the past handful of decades, really, but the volunteers were all wonderful people. We made some good progress with the villages we visited in getting vaccinations distributed and caring for the wounded, so it wasn't all so bad. Here, this one is the Sultan of Oman. He was a bit too premature to exhibit his waltz lessons; he stepped on my feet quite often.

( Now, his turn! She's looking back up to him expectantly, both to see his reaction and to prompt him to share a bit, too. )