REINHARDT, AT YOUR SERVICE! (catch_phrase) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2019-01-09 18:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, *kate, *whit, eileen the crow, reinhardt wilhelm |
Log: Reinhardt and Eileen
The sudden and unexpected arrival of one Sebastian No-Last-Name-Given had set Eileen’s world askew in the nicest of ways, once the initial flurry of activity had come and gone. She had never really imagined that she would see the Good Hunter again, not after their last encounter with her crawling off blood-covered from a fight gone wrong and telling him that it was past time for an old woman to sleep. Details she hadn’t and wouldn’t share with her present companion, at any rate, for sad tales were for another night, and instead she was telling humorous ones: “He has a way,” she said, leaning over the table between them as if it would warm her, “of determining the worst possible section of the fight and then running into it headfirst.” Sebastian’s style was so opposed to her usual stealth that she couldn’t help but rag on him, particularly to Reinhardt, who had never met stealth himself and would likely appreciate the younger man’s chutzpah. “One time I met him in the middle of the plaza outside the Cathedral Ward where he had angered not one but two giants, three crows, and a choir member with a flamethrower.” “Hah!” Sure enough, Reinhardt grinned. “I think I will like him! That is exactly the kind of thing Ana would yell at me for!” Stealth, he felt, was for people without rocket armor. He had rocket armor, so why should he bother trying to hide? Besides, it always felt better to charge in and face his foes toe-to-toe anyway. “And I suppose you had to help him out of trouble, as Captain Amari so often did for me?” She smiled, the expression purely fond despite the amount of shit-talking she’d accomplished in the last few minutes. “Yes, I helped him out. But he helped me out, many times over. Very generous, the stranger from outside the town.” She took a sip of coffee - she’d never had coffee before Atlantis, but she’d found she liked it best black with a little bit of sugar. Squinting up (and up) at her companion, she summarized: “You and Sebastian would get along like a house on fire, if you lived long enough to. Just as I think I’d like this Captain Amari very much. Were you sweet on her?” It was a direct question, perhaps, but Eileen had wondered, and she thought it was silly to pretend as if she wasn’t curious about Reinhardt’s past. She might have been jealous years before, but Yharnam had strangled the jealousy from her, replacing its teeth with a fierce desire to seize the day and damn the consequences. Reinhardt didn’t mind the directness. He’d never been much good at subtlety. One of the better things about age, too, was that questions like that didn’t seem like anything to worry about. At their age, everyone had past loves and old crushes and a skeleton or two in the closet. Jealousy of the past just seemed silly. “A bit, yes, once upon a time” Reinhardt admitted with a chuckle. “My husband used to tease me about having a crush on her. She was a lovely woman, and very brave and very smart. Nothing ever came of it, though. I was never the kind for cheating, and after Wolfram passed Ana and I were well in the habit of being friends and nothing more. You are right, though: you would like her very much if you met. The two of you have much in common beyond merely being beautiful women who are not to be trifled with.” Eileen snorted, the compliment landing perfectly, and warmed her hands around her cup. She’d known of Reinhardt’s husband, of course, and had enjoyed hearing more about the man as she and Reinhardt had grown to be better friends. “It’s a dynamic I know well - Henryk and I made a few bold decisions in our youth, but as the night stayed long we functioned better as friends rather than lovers. And gave Gascoigne considerably fewer headaches as such.” She smirked anyway at the thought. Both men were dead now, but she had never been one to push away grief. Instead, it sat beside her as a companion, and she found it comforting to still feel such human emotions instead of becoming one of the cold, apathetic hunters that Yharnam sometimes produced. Setting her mug down on the table, she mused: “And Brigitte - she is one of your friend’s daughters, is she not? Besides being your charge. She’s beautiful.” “Isn't she?” Reinhardt beamed at the compliment to his squire. He respected Brigitte as an adult, but he also thought of her as the daughter he never had. It made him happy to see other people recognize her obvious perfection. “She is Torbjorn's oldest, and I was named her godfather before she was born—I got to choose her name! She is one of the smartest people I have ever met, good and kind, and a true woman of honor. I have never regretted bringing her along on my adventures, despite how young she was when she first began traveling with me.” Eileen smiled, the corners of her eyes winking as she did so. She had never had children, and for the most part, she was fine with it. Gascoigne had been the idiot in their group who had insisted on trying to live the normal life on the side. Look what that got him in the end, she thought to herself, then rebuked herself for being uncharitable. She had loved Gascoigne’s girls, even if they were all gone now. “Sometimes, it’s the best to be the family member who’s fun and then leaves at the end of the day,” she said, “rather than the one who has to discipline.” “I would never have been good at discipline,” Reinhardt readily admitted. “The Lindholms, they had to be - a brood that size is like keeping an army in line. I am more the type to give the children sugar, play loud games with them, and then hand them back to their parents. I always loved to babysit! But being a parent, that is much harder. Especially with the life we had in Overwatch. I do not know how Torbjorn and Ana stood it, having children and so often being deployed far away from them.” Eileen didn’t know how parents stood it in general - worry over their little ones, watch the world get worse by the day. She knew enough of Reinhardt’s home to know that it had been ravaged by war. Such a wasteful cycle. It had to end somewhere. “My discipline will just have to go to my idiot friends and loved ones,” she said flippantly, her hand sneaking over the table and giving his a squeeze. “I think it’s a good exchange, since children are out of the question at the moment.” Reinhardt felt a huge rush of warmth as Eileen squeezed his hand, and he kept holding hers after it was done. He hadn’t experienced the bright and simple joys of dating in a very long time. He had been married, and then he’d thrown himself completely into his crusade for justice. He’d had little time for romance, despite how much he enjoyed it. But things were different in Atlantis. Brigitte was right - in some ways it was like retirement, if retirement still had plenty of opportunities for saving the world. There was room to make friends, and time enough to have dinner and flirt with a beautiful woman who wielded swords like a whirling tornado of terror. “It is the same for me,” Reinhardt said. “Though Brigitte and I are going this afternoon to the animal shelter, because she says there is a cat I need. Probably I will have no discipline for a cat, either, though!” There had been little time in Yharnam for any sort of romance, unless you left your obligations behind as Gascoigne had and welcomed denial. Eileen had been here for a few months now - long enough to get her bearings, and long enough to accept the idea that perhaps there was a chance here to enjoy life in the way people in songs did. A respite. “I don’t believe it will matter, either way,” Eileen said, her spare hand warming itself on her tea cup. “Cats do what they want regardless of any discipline. It’s the perfect animal for you.” She paused, thinking it over. “I thought I might get a bird.” Bit of an obvious choice, given the mask she had recently retired, but Eileen liked birds, particularly ones that were affectionate and chittered around in the morning light. “What sort of bird?” Reinhardt knew that people kept birds as pets, of course, but he'd never actually seen it in action. Mostly he knew people kept parrots, and it was a bit of a struggle to imagine Eileen with a scarlet macaw on her shoulder. He knew they called her “the Crow” in her own world, but he couldn't exactly imagine her with one of those in the house, either, mostly because he didn't think those were supposed to be pets. Then again, there were people with eagles and dragons here, so maybe a crow was a perfectly normal companion somewhere. “I had a bunch of corvidae - mishmash of ravens, crows, jackdaws, and magpies - that frequently kept me company when I patrolled the rooftops,” she said, as if having birds as friends was entirely normal. “They’re smart. Smarter than most think. If you’re kind to one, they’ll tell the others that you’re to be trusted.” Her job had been such a solitary one that there was something comforting about the untroubled chirps of birds in the rafters with her, flying silently around her as she moved through Yharnam. “I will take whatever bird looks like it needs the most care,” she decided. They were sensitive creatures, prone to being among the first victims during a crisis, and she figured that there had to be some who had been affected by those that would end creativity, one way or another. “But let’s perhaps wait to introduce it to the cat you adopt with Brigitte, yes?” “Hah!” When Reinhardt laughed, it was the kind of loud and unrestrained joy that made the teacups rattle on their saucers. All his feelings were as big as he was, and just as easy to see. “Indeed! We do not want a fight on our hands first thing!” He gave Eileen's hand a squeeze and finally let go of it. Perhaps he'd try taking it again when they were next walking together. He might even, he decided, ask her if he might give her a kiss goodbye today. Unaware of his thoughts, Eileen could only react to the larger-than-life laugh that filled the air. The corner of her mouth quirked up fondly, and she once more reached for her warm teacup, feeling the absence of Reinhardt’s hands. The man was like a space heater. “I’m certain with the proper training and treat management we can convince them to be friends.” She’d once gotten stuck helping damnable Djura with a half-tame beast; she could handle a cat and a bird combination. “Is this trip to the animal shelter only you and Brigitte, or may I come with you both?” “We would love to have you with us!” Reinhardt didn’t hesitate a moment in his reply, reacting with his usual enthusiasm. “I always enjoy your company, and Brigitte will be glad to get to know you more, as well! Perhaps we can all have dinner after, if you do not have other plans? We could ask Sebastian to come along, too! It will be like family dinner!” “Sebastian has a way with animals,” she said, thinking of all the beasts that had chased him through Central Yharnam’s alleyways, rooftops and sewer systems. Perhaps he would fare better with less toothy creatures. “I’ll ask him,” Eileen agreed, “and either way, I’ll meet you and Brigitte at the shelter. Someone needs to prevent an attempted adoption of all the animals, after all.” It was on the tip of Reinhardt’s tongue to protest. He even got as far as raising a hand to gesture broadly about his great self-control in the face of sweet little fluffy creatures in need of rescue. Then he recalled everything about himself and put his hand down. “Yes, that is wise,” he admitted with a sigh. “Honestly, it is only the fact that cats do not like to travel that prevented myself and Brigitte from being constantly accompanied by a team of at least six of them. Your help will be good to have.” Eileen smiled and nodded, as if she knew it all along but was nonetheless glad to be part of the adventure. The truth was, there was something tidy and enticing about getting a pet. It implied something more than a temporary visit. Not quite roots, but something that tied her ever-so-lightly to the magical island of Atlantis. And there was always fun to be had in cooing over animals with someone as enthusiastic as Reinhardt. “Excellent. Then it’s a date.”
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