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Torbjörn rests back on his feet as he stares intently at Widowmaker's supple behind. The way the cheeks bounce as she paces around, waiting for the action to start. Seemingly noticing the lack of noise, she abruptly turns around. Quickly averting his gaze, Torbjörn innocently inspects his turret. "What's with all this standing around?!" she shouts, a stern look across her face.

Torbjörn clears his throat and gestures to his turret. "Gun does all the work," he says, sheepishly. "Not much to do unless someone gets close." Widowmaker sighs and rubs her eyes, her anger dissipating into annoyance.

"Do you even know why you are here?" She asks through gritted teeth. Torbjörn looks from her, to his turret, and back to her. "Tu me prends la tête!" Widowmaker shouts. Torbjörn looks around uncomfortably. When his eyes cross over her again, hers are closed and she takes in a deep breath. "Breathe Amélie," she mutters to herself. "Just breathe." Torbjörn shifts uneasily. "You are here as my eyes and ears," she finally says. "When I am concentrating on my work, I lose focus on anything else around me. It is your job to handle anyone that gets up close."

Torbjörn hesitates for a second before saying, "I knew that." Widowmaker throws her head back and blurts out a frustrated grunt. Refusing to deal with the infuriating little troll any longer, she returns to her post and readies her gun once more. Torbjörn, after waiting until he was certain that the yelling was over, returned to his previous task of staring directly at her ass.