In an age where the documentation for just about everything is digital, it's a pleasant surprise when Angela opens the door to the postman delivering a wad of envelopes. She tucks them under her arm and takes her coffee upstairs to the office, opening up the windows before she gets started on today's paperwork.

It's sunny and warm, one of those rare July days in England where the weather actually matches the season. Angela will have to close the windows and pull down the blinds later on, when it'll be too hot for any breeze to cool the temperature. For now, it's much nicer to sit in front of her laptop with them open so she can look out over the sprawling English countryside. The view here is quite different from her usual posting in London, all rich greenery and rolling hills in the distance.

Angela phones Winston to let him know the paperwork has arrived, and she opens the envelopes while her inbox springs to life.

"Yes, we have – let's see. One for a Rutledge, a Correia dos Santos, and a Fawkes," she says. There's an OFFICIAL: SENSITIVE stamp on the top of each file - all the information is classified. "Looks like everything has arrived, Winston."

"Thank goodness," Winston says. "This'll probably be the last batch of newbies for a while, so it's good to know they've arrived already. Thanks for the heads up."

"Of course. I'll get started on them now."

Angela puts the files aside, clicking through her inbox between sips of coffee. Nothing pressing has come through this morning, just the regular Monday morning comms from the team. This means she can start reviewing the profiles of Overwatch's new recruits immediately, before she registers them on the system ready for physical exams later in the week.

The recruits are all male this time, one of them being a very familiar face indeed. Lúcio's profile is as charming as every piece of promotional media Angela has ever seen of him. It feels strange having to look through a celebrity's medical and personal history like this, though she's done it many times before when working in private healthcare. There isn't much to write up as Lúcio is, aptly, medically sound, with his family history included in full. She expects he'll make easy work of the physical exam. Angela signs off his documentation after about an hour of review, one of the easiest applications she's processed.

Mako Rutledge is more of an unknown, though his profile is significantly less charming. Angela suspects his invitation has been very costly for Overwatch. The higher ups had warned the team that the new membership invites would be going to some 'unusual but necessary' combatants, and her eyes widen when she flips over to the page covering Mako's insurance premium. Not that she's in any position to judge, but as she thought, Overwatch is shelling out a lot of money to bring Mako on board.

Angela processes his application after a couple of hours. There's a full medical and family history for him, with family – his mother – living in New Zealand. Looks like he's spent the last couple of years as Fawkes' personal bodyguard. Mako also appears to suffer badly with asthma, so Angela makes a note to ensure his inhaler is fit for purpose before signing him off. When she reaches for her half-finished coffee it's cold and time for lunch, so she grabs her mug and Fawkes' file and heads downstairs.

Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes. Angela thumbs through the pages. Much of the personal history is similar to Mako's, with an insurance premium to match, and his criminal record is extensive. He appears to have spent most of his life in what remains of the Australian outback. Jamison has almost no family history, which is odd, and the whereabouts of his family are unknown. He also doesn't have any proper medical records, which makes Angela frown. It's as though Jamison hasn't seen a doctor since the amputation of his right arm and leg when he was a teenager.

The page detailing Jamison's cybernetics is similarly vague. There are no serial numbers, no recognisable parts listed… she guesses they've been made from prohibited materials and constructed in an unregulated environment. Angela wonders if he made them himself.

Knowing that her own cybernetics would dramatically improve Jamison's quality of life, in addition to his survivability in combat, she makes an immediate note to arrange a cybernetic consultation with him. This is what Angela specialises in, after all, and it's her duty to test the waters of physical enhancement now that he's under her care. At least she'll be able to do so without having to make it an ultimatum, too. Genji, we can fix your body, but… I can only treat you if you agree to join Overwatch.

Angela shakes away that memory and turns to the next page. While it's hard to properly assess from the attached photos, the hunch Jamison is sporting may be more serious than just bad posture. The material on his arm must be too heavy for his shoulder to slope like that. He doesn't even have a prosthetic foot on his right leg to keep himself balanced. Angela scribbles down that Jamison will require an x-ray, and he could really do with a proper leg, too.

Thank goodness the radiation poisoning will be easy to treat. Thank goodness for modern medicine, indeed.

Angela flips back to Jamison's profile page, studying his photo. The Jamison looking up at her is a dishevelled looking man with a cutthroat smile. Angela has never visited Australia, but reading up on these two makes her think there is so much work out there that could be – and needs to – be done.

Angela puts Jamison's file down and starts on lunch, chopping up vegetables for a feta salad on autopilot. She's glad that Jamison is joining them. It could really change him for the better. Jesse is a perfect example of a wayward young man who found his purpose through Overwatch, and Angela thinks both Jamison and Mako could easily follow in his footsteps. Regardless of where their lives have taken them up until now, there is always time to choose a different path. Even if it is through Overwatch.

When lunch is over it's time to get back to work. Eager to type up her notes on Jamison's profile, Angela heads back upstairs, where it feels thick with heat from the midday sun. She puts the desk fan on and reminds herself that at some point she must call out an engineer for the broken air conditioning units up here. It always slips her mind until it's too hot, and then inevitably she's called away to London again, and when she does call the engineers they only offer a day when she's travelling, and the cycle begins anew. After all this, she must make it a priority.

There's a new email in her inbox and a missed call on her phone - of course, it's from Lena.

Hey doc!

So you're doing the physicals on Friday right? I was thinking we should all go out for drinks afterwards as you'll be in London again, break in the new recruits if they're down for it. The Prince Regent is fancy (and close to the station for you too)! Hana wants to meet Lucio and we don't even need to ask Jesse/Torb haha. Reinhardt will probably come too you know what he's like!

Let me know what you think! :)

Not even two o'clock on Monday afternoon and Lena is already thinking about drinks on Friday. Angela is grinning as she types out her reply.

Sorry for missing your call Lena, some of us are busy working! ;)

Yes that sounds wonderful. I'm not sure if our Australian recruits will be particularly social, but somehow I don't think they'll be able to resist some ice cold beers in this weather…

The Prince Regent would be lovely. If I don't see you around HQ before then, I'll text you on Friday once the physicals are done.

Sure enough, just as Angela clicks away to complete Jamison's registration, a popup appears with Lena's reply.

You're just not fast enough! Hehe okay see you on Friday then!

Angela is excited now that there's something to look forward to at the end of the week. When Jamison's registration is all done she realises that she's sweating - the windows have been open all this time, allowing the room to fill with hot, stuffy air. She closes them and ups the desk fan to its highest setting. If only these old country houses weren't built to retain heat!

Unfortunately, the weather remains hot for the rest of the week. Angela works through the bulk of her remaining documentation over the next couple of days, which gives her Thursday to do some much-needed work on the house. Friday morning comes around and Angela has to rush to be outside on time for her taxi. The train into London should be a relaxing journey looking out over more beautiful countryside, but she's flapped from a whirlwind morning of getting ready for an eventful day.

It's hard to dress professionally when it's going to be 33 degrees in the city. Angela feels uncomfortable in the pencil dress she eventually settled on this morning, having grown accustomed to lounging in tank tops and shorts at home. But the train is air conditioned and she's relaxed by the time she gets off, ready to face the sweltering heat of the London underground before arriving at Headquarters.

Angela checks her watch after signing in at reception. Her first appointment, Jamison's medical, starts at 9:30am. It's already 9:02 and she needs to see Torbjörn before she gets settled in her office, as he's been working on Caduceus for the last couple of weeks. Angela doesn't rush herself, figuring Jamison is unlikely to arrive on time. She's actually sort of anticipating him to be quite hard work, and while she hasn't exactly been dreading his physical, she's looking forward to getting it over with.

She shares the elevator with a few guys from security who need the third and fifth floors, and then has a little catch up with Torbjörn over in the engineering department, which is on the same floor as medical, thankfully. It's 9:22 when Angela reaches medical, and she's just getting her office keys out of her purse when she sees –

Oh. Jamison is here. He's sitting alone in the waiting area reading a magazine, his prosthetic leg – if it can even be called that – crossed over his real one. Jamison is wearing shorts and a shirt, which look reasonably clean, but the rest of him is – unkempt. He looks considerably more relaxed than in any of the photos supplied in his file, though that might have something to do with the lack of explosives tied to him.

"Gosh, sorry I'm late," Angela says breathlessly, surprised to see him here. "Give me a couple of minutes and I'll call you right in."

Jamison looks up from his magazine. "Late? Looks like you're right on time to me, mate."

Wow, that is one thick accent. Jamison is grinning at her, and suddenly Angela feels guilty for having doubted his punctuality. She manages a smile back at him before unlocking her office and rushing inside. It's another whirlwind of logging into her desktop, turning the lights on and readying the medical equipment. They're on a bit of a tight schedule today as she's expecting the two Junkers to require more time for their physicals. Angela pulls on her labcoat and, just before opening the office door, runs her hands down over her dress to smooth it out. Despite the rushing around she still wants to look at least somewhat professional.

9:33. Angela jogs over to Jamison, offering him a hand and a smile in greeting. "Thank you so much for waiting, Jamison, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"No problem doc, pleasure's all mine," Jamison chirps. He doesn't stand up so much as lurches forward off the chair, and Angela can't help jumping back a little at the juxtaposition of this threatening posture and cheerful voice. Gosh, even without a right foot, he's tall.

Jamison proffers his human hand to her. His grip is firm and strong, and his eyes and features are sharp - sharpened even more by the razor cut of his smile. Even his hair is wild, shaped like flames on his head and singed at the tips. Jamison's unsettling and rather sinister appearance totally contradicts his courtesy. "Haven't been called Jamison since I was a kid, though – call me Junkrat."

It's uncommon for recruits to go by their call signs outside of battle, but Angela accepts this with a nod. Junkrat certainly suits him. "Of course. Well, Junkrat, I'm Angela, but you might already know me by my call sign?"

"Right, sure. Heard a lot about ya, Miss Mercy. Or – er – is that Missus Mercy?"

Angela laughs, slightly embarrassed. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "No, I'm just Miss. Come, let's get started. We've got quite a few tests to run through."

Jamison follows her into the office, the clicking of her heels dwarfed by the alternating clanks of his leg. Angela has him sit beside her and brings up his profile on her computer, and she becomes immediately aware of his twitchiness, the way his eyes dart around her office. The heat of his presence, which she's guessing is a by-product of living through the outback's irradiation. Luckily HQ is fully air-conditioned.

"Okay, first things first – radiation poisoning," she says. "I take it you've been on Neothyroshield?"

Australia quickly became the world's number one importer of Neothyroshield after the omnium explosion, an advanced medicine capable of negating the lethality of radiation poisoning. Junkrat affirms her assumption, and it is a huge relief to hear that he has somehow managed to maintain a decent dosage since the explosion. She writes out a 7 day prescription for NDTPA, a slightly different and more potent substance, to obliterate any lingering poison in his body.

"There're a few questions I need to ask before we continue," she says. "Do you smoke?"

"Only when I'm on fire."

"Okay - no tobacco?"

"Nah, never. I do actually smoke when I'm on fire though, if that counts," Junkrat says, and Angela can't help smiling at how seriously he says it. Somehow she doesn't doubt it, given how he looks.

She runs through the rest of the questions, discovering in the process that he likes drinking and considers himself 'moderately' active. It's a negative on any family history though, and Junkrat seems uncommitted to the subject with the vague answers he provides, so Angela doesn't push him. A small part of her wonders if it might be worth discussing at some point, but at the moment she isn't anywhere near willing to poke around his personal history if he has nothing medically relevant to declare.

"Okay, we'll do the usual checks for height, weight and blood pressure once we've taken some bloods," she says. "Are you alright with needles?"

"Never met a bad one so I s'pose so," Junkrat shrugs.

Angela is still smiling while she gets out the equipment.

"Were you waiting long?" she asks, holding his human arm while she studies it for a suitable vein. His skin feels dry but very warm beneath her fingers, and she can feel his eyes on her, watching. He doesn't tense at all when the needle goes in.

"Pfft. If I'd been waiting you woulda known about it, believe me," Junkrat says. "Patience isn't… er. It's not one of my specialities, put it that way."

"You seem very patient to me right now," Angela observes.

"Hah! I'm just on me best behaviour for you, doc. Plus I don't know if I can trust ya, y'know, when you've got a needle in me arm like that."

"I think you're safe for now," Angela says, amused. She presses a cotton wad firmly into the crook of his arm when she's done. "Hold that for me please – make sure you press hard."

Junkrat does as he's told, tapping his foot and skittishly looking around while Angela busies herself putting the supplies away. At least she doesn't have to feel self-conscious about the office; it's cleaned more regularly than her office at home, but somehow she doesn't think Junkrat would mind even if it was a mess.

While preparing the vials for testing, Angela can't help casting a glance over her shoulder at him. She takes note of a few things – his eyes, the discolouration of his face, the slight curve of his back. It doesn't seem nearly as pronounced as it did in his photos – Junkrat doesn't have any weight on him after all – but she's still concerned about the weight of his cybernetic arm and how it's dragging his shoulder down.

Putting a plaster over the cotton wad, Angela instructs Junkrat to hop onto the scales. His weight is healthy accounting for the added weight of the prosthetics. Height, however, is an issue. Standing in front of her on the scales, Junkrat is a little under a head above her when he should be almost a full foot taller.

"Can you stand up straight as you can for me please?"

Even though he looks uncomfortably rigid doing so, Junkrat does as he's told once again, standing on his human leg and straightening himself completely. His prosthetic leg is a few inches short of being able to support his full height. Angela isn't happy about this, but she's pleased to see that he's capable of straightening his back. Sure enough he matches his recorded height. Junkrat absolutely towers above her.

Suddenly he wobbles, probably unused to standing on one foot for too long. Angela reaches for his arm as he grabs a fistful of her labcoat to steady himself.

"Careful," she says softly, frowning at his poor balance – definitely due to the missing foot. Junkrat laughs as he steps off the scale, but he looks a bit flustered when he sits down again.

"Not used to doin' that without a buncha stuff on my back," he says. Angela can see the embarrassment in his smile when he meets her eyes.

"Mm… Now that I've seen you, I think I'll send you for an x-ray, just in case. With how tall you are we need to make sure your bone structure isn't damaged from all those weights you carry around."

"Damnit. You're not gonna make me walk a tightrope or anything to get there, are ya?"

"No, no. But you will have to lay very still during the x-ray," Angela says. Junkrat hasn't managed to sit still for a minute since he's been here.

"Oof. That's a bit of a tall order," he says, and his lips pull into a huge grin. "…Get it? Tall order?"

"Ugh," Angela says, though she's grinning, too. "Yes, very good."

She carries on with the tests. Junkrat's blood pressure checks out, though it's a little on the high side, and his blood CO2 levels are normal. His reflexes also come back strong, which Angela is surprised by, but it's good. Everything is coming out better than she was expecting – even Junkrat himself, or at least, his behaviour. He hasn't been hard work at all.

"Alright. Next up we need to check out those eyes of yours, as they're looking very sore."

"You're a real sweet talker, ain'tcha, doc?" Junkrat bats his blond eyelashes in what he must assume is an alluring manner, making Angela chuckle. She pulls up the trolley for the optical equipment and sits close in front of him so she can study his eyes.

"Ah. This looks like a classic case of dry eye syndrome to me," she says then. Angela delicately guides his jaw so that he's facing her. Junkrat's pupils dilate a little when they meet hers. "Are they often dry and sore like this?"

"Uh… I dunno," Junkrat says, swallowing. "Maybe, I s'pose? Dunno."

"Mmhm. Could you look to the left for me? Okay, and now the right?"

For a supposed criminal mastermind, Junkrat is very accommodating. He's jigging his leg and tapping his thighs with his hands, which Angela suspects is a way of keeping his twitchiness at bay while he has to stay still.

"First things first, let's get you cleaned up. Then I'll give you a quick vision test."

"Clean - uh, cleaned up?"

Angela brings out a pack of babywipes. Junkrat looks at her as though she's just pulled a gun on him, the colour draining from his face. Ah, how convenient. Now she can see the extent of the dirt!

Junkrat cringes when she hands over the pack, and Angela watches him with her chin in her palm. He wrinkles his nose when he pulls out a couple of wipes and scrubs his face as quickly as he can, like having to clean himself is a huge inconvenience.

"Careful you don't rub too hard," Angela says, resisting the urge to grab his hand. When Junkrat's gotten through a few sheets he looks a little flushed but considerably cleaner, and Angela notes a few prominent freckles dotted over his face, contrasting against the newly exposed and very tanned skin there. She discards the wipes for him before grabbing something else from her desk – a small bottle.

"Medicated eyedrops," she tells him, pressing it into his hand. "Start off applying a couple of drops to both eyes every hour, if you can, and then ease off after a day. I'll get a prescription for some regular lubricating drops for you, which you'll be able to apply as needed."

Junkrat turns the bottle over in his hand, looking sceptical while he reads the label.

"Wow," he says then, sounding genuinely impressed. He leans away from her and scratches his head, like he isn't sure what to make of it. "Uh. Cheers, doc."

Angela sits back too, mirroring Junkrat's surprise. Gratitude? Already? Somehow she wasn't expecting this from a notorious criminal on their first meeting, but once again it's looking like her immediate assumption about Junkrat was wrong.

"You're welcome," she says, meaning it. She smiles at Junkrat before pretending to scold him. "But you've got to keep your face cleaner, as all the debris of whatever you do will only encourage infection and more dryness!"

"Right, sure, gotcha," Junkrat says, the words coming out on a laugh. He doesn't seem to know what to do with himself, so Angela takes the opportunity to ready the field of vision test for him. It takes him a few tries to get the medicated droplets into his eyes, but he manages, and after some intense blinking Angela is pleased to see some of the redness dissipate. Junkrat's field of vision test comes back with yet more strong results, though his eye pressure, like his blood, is slightly higher than average. She prints off a prescription for more eye drops and then returns to the medical checklist.

"We're almost finished," she says. "Let's see… We need to check your lungs, so if you could lift up your shirt for me, please?"

"Bit soon for that, ain't it?" Junkrat says, waggling his eyebrows at her. Angela sighs, grinning despite herself.

"Somehow I didn't have you down as the shy type. Would you like me to ask one of my male assistants to check instead?"

Junkrat waves her off. "Nah, you're alright. I was only messing with ya."

He proceeds to pull his shirt off entirely, and Angela's eyes widen.

"This'll make things easier," he says, casually tossing it aside. As a doctor it's nothing she hasn't seen before, but his body is… Well. Not quite what she was expecting. Despite having a slender frame, Junkrat is very broad, very muscular, and very toned.

Angela presses the stethoscope against his back. The skin is the same here as his face – tanned and smeared with dirt, as though he spends his life either sunning himself on a beach or exploring the London underground. She moves, checking the different points on his back, listening carefully. Scars are scattered across it, and he has silvery tiger stripes along his hips from what must've been a big growth spurt during puberty. She can't get over the warmth of his skin, sat here like he is in an air conditioned office without a shirt on.

Anyway, Junkrat's lungs sound clear and healthy.

"Thank you," Angela says, returning to her desk. Junkrat seems perfectly content to sit there without his shirt on while she types up her notes. When she's done, she gives an airy, satisfied sigh.

"For someone who doesn't seem to have seen a doctor in years, you're in very good physical condition, Junkrat."

"Sheesh, didn't realise I was an antique," he says, feigning offence. "You gonna give me a box and put me up for sale now that I'm medically certified?"

"Well, you are sort of Overwatch's property now," Angela says. "Would it sound better if I called you a collector's item?"

Junkrat drums his chin. "Hmmm… Yeah, alright, that's better. I'll take it."

"Good."

They grin at one another, and then Angela looks back to the checklist. He's almost finished. While they wait for the results of his bloods to come back, though, there's just one thing left to be addressed. Angela clasps her hands together.

"As impressed as I am by your health thus far, however, we have to discuss your cybernetics. Specifically ordering you some new ones."

Junkrat blinks at her. "Order new ones?"

"Once we have your measurements, we can start discussing what you want next week and have a new arm and leg made for you in August," Angela says, smiling. "I'm happy to provide a replica of your arm if you'd prefer, but of course we would provide a full replacement for your le-"

"Woah, woah!" Junkrat interrupts her with a laugh. "Who said anything about me needing or wanting any new parts?"

"I mean, what you have already are functional, but they're not… what we would offer," she says, diplomatically.

Junkrat folds his arms over his bare chest and leans back, regarding her with a cynical look. "Just because they aren't your cybernetics doesn't mean they don't work, doc."

Angela takes a breath to reply, but the scowl on his face makes her swallow it down.

"Seems pretty clear to me that they work just fine," he tells her. "I didn't come here to get 'fixed', if that's what you're thinking."

"It… Well." Angela pauses. She hadn't expected him to take this so personally. "I'm not at all saying we need to 'fix' you, Junkrat. It's just that your records indicate that your prosthetics, as they are now, don't meet our safety standards. My safety standards, I should say."

Junkrat's eyes narrow. She had a slight feeling he wouldn't be immediately on board with something like this, though she supposes she could have broached the subject in a gentler manner. Angela tries again.

"Junkrat, you're permanently several inches down on your right side. It's going to have serious repercussions on your posture and spine. And your arm, the weight of it, I mean, is – a concern."

"Right," he says, clearly unimpressed by this. "So in other words, I'm not allowed in if I refuse to change my body."

Angela holds his eyes for a moment, aware that the air between them is becoming hostile. She shakes her head.

"I'm not saying that. Nor am I going to force you into anything," she says, gently. "If you really don't want anything new, I at least need to have a look so I can sign you off."

Junkrat puffs out a little laugh like he doesn't believe her. "Yeah, alright." He lunges forwards, extending his metal arm to her. "Go on then, have a look," he says, the smile on his face unfriendly. "Can't wait to hear what y'think."

This abrupt change in him has taken Angela by surprise, though she supposes it shouldn't. It's disappointing because she thought he would be enthusiastic about new equipment – about being taken care of by a professional. But that isn't going to be the case, so Angela clears her throat and holds Junkrat's metal arm in her hands. Her touch is not invasive but gentle and observatory as she turns it over, spreads his fingers, watches the joints flex and shift beneath the chassis.

She can feel his eyes burning into her, watching. She imagines he's been picked apart for many things over the years, which would explain his hostility with her. The outback is still nigh on inhospitable, and it can be easy to forget that with the innate friendliness of Junkrat's hearty accent. It may be a disappointment, but Angela should have expected this. Junkrat has probably never had a doctor to help him with any of this.

She asks him about a couple of things. Is this a replica of the D240? Is the power source a solar-lithium hybrid? He answers her, still watching with cynical eyes, but there isn't quite the same bite in his words. She asks if she can look at his leg, and when he grudgingly acquiesces, Angela treats it with the same gentle touch.

Actually, although the materials used definitely aren't regulated, the construction is faultless. Even his leg accounts for the added weight on his right side thanks to a spring loaded suspension, which is quite impressive. It's different, of course, everything put together in a far simpler way than the cybernetics Angela provides. And the missing height, the lack of a right foot, is still an issue. But Junkrat's arm and leg do indeed work – they're functional and well crafted.

"You made these yourself, didn't you?" she asks him. Junkrat seems caught off guard by this, then remembers himself, puffing out his chest.

"Too right I did," he tells her. "When you need to survive, you make do with whatever you can get."

"You've done an excellent job," she says, hoping that it sounds flattering rather than condescending. When she looks up at Junkrat the sharpness in his eyes has softened.

"I make everything m'self," he says. "Haven't had a choice."

"I understand," Angela says, quietly. She knows all too well what it's like trying to survive on your own.

Quiet descends between them while she thinks. He's clearly very skilled to have crafted these parts himself, and while she still knows he'll be better off with new limbs, Angela thinks they are satisfactory for now. Feeling safe in the knowledge that she doesn't have to give Junkrat any ultimatums, she smiles at him.

"Okay, how about this. Stay as you are. It's important you get settled here after all. I'm more than happy to sign off your physical today, but… would you consider remaking your cybernetics at some point in the future, with me?"

Junkrat opens his mouth to say something, but Angela gestures to his shoulder, the one with the skull tattooed over it. "The functionality is fine but – the weight of it on your shoulder concerns me. And I worry about your balance, your posture. I understand you're completely used to it and you know your body far better than I do, but if – I mean, say something happened to your leg in the middle of a fight. The enemy wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of that."

Junkrat flexes his prosthetic arm, looks down at his leg like he's thinking it over. He frowns at her. "So you're passing me, but it's conditional?"

"None of this is conditional, I promise," she says, and punctuates her words by reaching across and taking his metal hand into both of hers. Angela squeezes reassuringly, wondering if his technology is nuanced enough to feel it. Junkrat's eyebrows arch up in surprise.

"All I'm asking is that you consider it," she says, watching his face go a little red. "Your autonomy is important, and I fully respect that. But so is your health. It's my responsibility to ensure you're looked after for as long as you're with us."

They look at each other in silence. Then Junkrat pulls his hand away, rolls his eyes, and gives an enormous, theatrical sigh.

"ALRIGHT, alright, alright. No more emotional blackmail! I'll think about it. Think about it. Ergh, you're lucky I can't say no to a beautiful woman looking at me like that." Junkrat catches himself when the grumbled words have already left his mouth. "Egh- I mean – damn it! Forget I said that thing, that- what I said just now." Flustered, he points a finger at her. "I'm onto you, doc. Don't think I don't know what you women are like!"

Angela is laughing into her hand, equal parts amused and flattered. His poor face is bright red. But at least he's smiling now, the curve of it a sheepish admission of defeat.

"Thank you," she says gratefully. "As that's resolved, I think we're done for now. Let's get your prescriptions printed and schedule an x-ray, then you'll be free from my villainous hands."

"About time too, I thought I was joining the bloody good guys here!"

Angela prints the prescriptions and wraps up Junkrat's medical in the process. She gives him directions for the canteen so he can get some breakfast, though not before reminding him that his shirt is still on the floor, and she lets him know that he's welcome to join his new teammates later on for some drinks. When he goes, Angela gives herself a couple of minutes to relax, left with a huge smile on her face from the hurricane of his presence.

Assessing Junkrat was actually quite… fun? It certainly went better than she was anticipating, even with their disagreement on his prosthetics. Not bad for a routine medical examination. He is really quite a character, although now she's going to be worried as long as he's missing those crucial few inches on his right leg. Still, he's open to reconsidering in the future, maybe. At least that's some sort of progress.

Angela peeks out of her office and waves over to Mako, who's sitting in the waiting area with his arms folded. The rest of the morning passes slowly. Mako – who goes by Roadhog – isn't very talkative, which isn't ideal, but they manage to work through his physical in decent time. He doesn't perform nearly as well as Junkrat in some respects, but there're no cybernetics to worry about this time, and Roadhog has had the foresight to bring a spare inhaler so he can keep one on his person. Angela bags the spare ready for testing, and after a couple of hours she has signed him off, too.

Just like that the morning is over, Overwatch having gained two new members. Angela has half an hour for lunch before she calls the final recruit into her office. Lúcio's session is faster and less intense than the Junkers', and he performs well across the board, as expected. Angela thinks he'll fit in easily with the others. He's so charming and polite, but he's enthusiastic, too, like a human ray of sunshine. A human ray of sunshine with a case of mild tinnitus, that is.

When Angela has a chance to check the time it's already three o'clock. Once Lúcio's medical is signed off she anticipates needing another couple of hours before she can head over to the pub, so she texts Lena to let her know.

Think I'll be at the Regent for about 5:30. Save a seat for me?

Lena's reply is immediate:

You got it. Whole place is booked out for us so see you there!

Booking out venues wasn't needed back when Angela first joined Overwatch, but now it's an implicit requirement in their contract with the military: keep things quiet and we will continue to fund you. It means they can't have as many company-expensed evenings out as they used to, but Angela doesn't mind at all, grateful for any excuse to hang out and catch up with the others. Too much of her time is spent alone these days.

By five o'clock the new recruits are officially ready to begin training and Angela is getting ready to go. After pulling her hair from the band and giving it a shake, she hangs her labcoat behind the door and locks up her office. She's been on the Bakerloo underground line enough times to know when the bumps and banking curves hit the carriages - essential information for mid-journey lipstick application - and it only takes a few minutes before Angela is stepping out of the station and into the city. London's temperature has dropped to a more comfortable but still hot 27 degrees, the sun just beginning its descent into night. It feels wonderful outside, better still now that work is over for the week.

The pub is full of familiar faces. Angela loves it in here – the chandeliers, plush red upholstery, dark wood tables. You can have a pint and a laugh but it feels upmarket and more glamorous than a regular London pub. Angela is very glad she chose to wear the pencil dress now, feeling equally glam and sophisticated in it. The bar is already quite crowded, and as staff filter in over the course of the evening it's going to be more difficult to get a drink. Angela is fine with this, happy to be surrounded by people. Her heels clack against the floorboards as she makes a beeline for her first drink of the evening, but she's intercepted by Lena greeting her with a huge hug.

"Hey doc!" Lena says, effervescent as always. She's dressed in a fitted shirt and black jeans, the epitome of smart casual. "God it's been so long, I'm so glad you're here! Looking gorgeous as ever!"

"It's great to see you too," Angela laughs. "How've you been?"

They chatter at the bar while they wait to be served. Angela orders Lena a gin and tonic and an espresso martini for herself, knowing she'll need the caffeine to help keep her awake through the evening.

"Yeah, I'm still in Hammersmith with Emily," Lena tells her, dreamily. "Things are going great, but she REALLY wants a cat. What about you? Still living out in leafy Bucks?"

"For now," Angela sighs. "Until they need me on full time duty, I prefer the commute to living in the city. There's so much work to do on the house still."

"Oh come on, London isn't that bad!" Lena pouts.

"It's not! But the countryside reminds me of home. Plus I'll never tire of looking up at night and being able to see the stars."

"You've got me there. But yeah, you should let me know when you're back in town with some free time – we could have a shop around Piccadilly!"

"I'd love that!" Angela says, delighted. She doesn't have many girlfriends outside of work to have lunch or go shopping with.

The Overwatch agents have a corner of the pub to themselves - at one table are Ana, Jack, Reinhardt and Torbjörn, and at the other are Hana and Jesse. Angela and Lena wander over to the younger agents, Angela exchanging air kisses with Hana and a careful one-armed hug with Jesse so her martini doesn't spill.

"It's been far too long since I saw your pretty face around here," Jesse says, his American drawl as charming as ever.

"Likewise," Angela says with a wink, and they all laugh. She takes a seat opposite him. "So, what's happening? How are you both?"

"Not sure if you heard, but we're being shipped out to Japan next week," Jesse says. "Hana's been tellin' me to expect terrible hamburgers and real small hotel rooms, so I can't say I'm looking forward to it."

"Wait, next week? Isn't that a bit short notice?" Lena asks. She exchanges a look with Angela – neither of them were told about this.

Jesse shrugs. "Apparently the Shimadas can't handle this particular mission alone. And before you start worrying about him, Miss Ziegler, Genji's just fine," he says, having caught the worry on Angela's face before she could voice it. "They just need a little backup."

"I see," Angela says. If they're staying in hotel rooms rather than the usual Overwatch-owned accommodation the situation must be somewhat urgent. "As I haven't been told about this, I take it Ana will be supporting you this time?"

"Seems so. Don't worry about it doc, trust me."

Angela appreciates Jesse's easy, lopsided smile at her. If he's not worried about it then there's no reason for her to be. A long time has passed since Genji's last malfunction, and she's been careful to keep his software updated as often as possible. She doesn't doubt that if Genji was in need of help, they'd be sending her instead.

Hana huffs loudly. "I can't believe they're making me go too, just when Lúcio is joining us. I've been dying to meet him for months!" She turns to Angela with a pleading look in her eyes. "He's definitely coming tonight, isn't he?"

"He said he was, so perhaps he's just preparing himself to meet you," Angela says. "I'm sure he'll want to make the best first impression."

"Like that'll be hard," Lena says, grinning.

"Please, you guys, we're just friends," Hana says, trying unsuccessfully to disguise her smile behind a pout. The group have playfully teased Hana about meeting Lúcio ever since his invitation became common knowledge at HQ, and Hana tends to respond with dramatic swoons and broad grins while telling them all to quit it. Angela and Lena think it's incredibly cute that she's excited to meet him. Having actually met Lúcio, Angela has no doubt that they'll get along very well.

"He'll be here," Jesse says, in the same way he told Angela not to worry about Genji. He pats Hana's shoulder. "And he'll still be here when we're back, too. Just relax."

Angela has a few sips of her martini, enjoying the atmosphere and the taste of cool sweet coffee after a long day of work. Hana heads off to the bathroom and Jesse gets up to order himself a beer and treat Lena to another drink. It's just the two of them when Lena turns to face her then, frowning.

"Hey, there's one thing I wanted to ask you about - those Aussies," she says. "They're the ones who stole the crown jewels, aren't they."

It's not a question but a statement. Ah, yes – Angela remembers that morning when reports came in of the Great Heist at the Tower of London. Lena, fiercely patriotic, had been furious. The Heist happened early last year and just a few months ago the crown jewels were anonymously 'donated' back to the government – around the time Angela was informed of Junkrat and Roadhog's invitations to Overwatch, coincidentally.

"They are the very same ones, yes. But you know they wouldn't have been invited if there was any possibility of them trying something like that again," Angela says, hoping to reassure her.

Lena purses her lips. "Mm. You really don't think they will?"

Angela sits back, thinking about it. "It's difficult for me to say because my interaction with them has been quite superficial," she says, truthfully. "As they were willing to return the crown jewels in the first place, I don't think they'd want to compromise their position now that they've been accepted."

Lena is staring down into her glass. She turns it, watches the ice cubes clink against the sides. The frown on her face tells Angela she's unconvinced. "You'd hope so, wouldn't you. I expect they don't care about the position as much as the salary though," Lena says, coldly.

Angela goes to say something but decides against it, as Lena has a point. Junkrat and Roadhog are still criminals, they're just contracted to Overwatch and paid a hefty wage to do morally justifiable jobs now. But surely they wouldn't just join Overwatch for the - admittedly substantial – salary, would they?

Well, regardless, Angela has no qualms about accepting her own Overwatch paycheck every month despite her pacifist ideals. Lena is just the same. At least this way Junkrat and Roadhog are doing legitimate work. She knows she can't say this to Lena, though - when Lena has her mind set on something it can be very difficult for her to see things any other way. The last thing she wants is to start an argument.

But Angela feels optimistic after meeting the Aussies today, and she wants to try and relay that optimism. It's so much better if the team can generally get along with one another – makes assignments easier to complete, and having evenings out like this possible.

"Both of them were easy to deal with today, you know. Roadhog didn't say much, but Junkrat was actually rather friendly," Angela says. The look of surprise on Lena's face makes her feel a little better about her own preconceptions of Junkrat; both of them must have anticipated immediately bad behaviour from him.

"No way," Lena says. "I don't believe that. I mean – I get it, Aussie blokes tend to be alright, but – seriously?"

"Seriously. I was just as surprised as you. But Junkrat was polite - did everything I told him, even. Not what you'd expect from a criminal like him, right?"

Lena laughs, shaking her head. "I don't think anyone would have a problem doing anything you told them, doc."

Angela just laughs, embarrassed because she knows it's sort of true. She thinks about what Junkrat had said earlier – the inadvertent compliment followed by the sheepish smile on his face. Okay, it probably wasn't totally inadvertent, Angela isn't that naïve. But Junkrat had been much friendlier than she was expecting. He was very easy to talk to and get along with, which in turn made it easy for Angela to warm to him. He'd also made her laugh, something very high on Angela's list of likeable qualities in a person.

"Anyway, I think the two of you could get along well," she says. "They might come along tonight, so I think it'll be good to meet him yourself and see what you think then."

"Stealing the crown jewels isn't exactly high on my list of forgivable crimes… Ugh, I suppose you're right though," Lena sighs. "I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. But that doesn't mean I have to like them!"

"We don't all need to be the best of friends," Angela says, fairly. "I understand that you're wary of them, as we all should be, but I don't believe legal would allow us to recruit anyone who was deemed too much of a risk."

Lena still looks unconvinced, but her frown has eased. "I suppose so. Just have to see how it goes now, don't we?"

"We do indeed."

They chat a little more about other, benign things, and some chips arrive at the table for them to snack on. When Hana returns Angela excuses herself to get another drink before saying hello to the others. Reinhardt and Torbjörn are discussing a recent football match, and Jack is quiet as usual, a beer sat half empty in front of him. They all greet Angela but Ana gets up to give her a kiss on each cheek.

"Oh, don't you look lovely," Ana says, holding her by the shoulders. "It's so good to see you again!"

"It's good to see you too," Angela says in kind, surprised by Ana's warmth. She can be distant and professional to the point of coldness at times, so it's pleasant to see her at ease like this. Angela notes the almost empty glass of wine on the table in front of her. "Are you keeping well?"

Ana scoots along to allow her into the booth so they can order some food, more drinks, and catch up. The established members of Overwatch all do such different work around HQ that there's often a lot to talk about. Ana is relieved that Fareeha's latest mission is over. Jack is leading the tactical planning for the Japanese assignment. Torbjörn finished upgrading HQ's physical defences this week, and Reinhardt has supposedly found a polish so good it gives his armour the most incredible mirror-like shine. There are four empty pint glasses in front of him. He looks very happy, a rosy glow on his cheeks.

Angela starts telling them about some of her latest research – fortification of the wings on her Valkyrie suit - but the conversation swiftly deviates to the new recruits. Angela is honest with them when they ask for her first impressions: Lúcio is charming, Roadhog is quiet, and Junkrat is too much to describe in one word. It seems they're all somewhat wary of the Junkers, but the older members will also be more receptive to good performance and behaviour - unlike Lena, who already seems to have her mind made up.

"We'll see how they fare in combat," Ana says. "You'll have to let me know how their training goes next week."

"I'm not quite sure what to expect, aside from a lot of loud music and explosions. Perhaps all of us will be pleasantly surprised," Angela says, setting down her third empty cocktail glass. "We'll see."

Actually, Angela is optimistic about training next week, too. No two Overwatch agents have ever been alike, and as similar as Junkrat and Roadhog's circumstances may be, they are still completely different people. Angela is particularly, albeit privately, excited to see what Junkrat has to offer. He has a lot to prove if everyone is already wary of him, and part of her hopes he'll surpass their expectations, just like he did hers today.

Where are those two, anyway? Angela checks her phone for the time, realising that she's been in the pub for ages and there's no sign of either one of them. When she'd told him about drinks earlier Junkrat hadn't said no but he hadn't exactly said yes either – just that having a couple of 'bevvies' sounded good. The thought of neither of them turning up is disappointing, which itself is a surprise to her. She supposes it's always good to meet colleagues in a more relaxed setting, but it's probably more the fact that Junkrat was so fun to talk to. She really hopes the others warm to him too.

The pub fills with people coming in from the later shifts, with Lúcio making his appearance shortly after everyone has finished their food. The older agents eagerly wave over to him when they spot him. Lúcio moves like he's going to come over and introduce himself, but he's quickly whisked away by Lena. Angela watches fondly; Lúcio actually looks a little shy when Hana jumps up to hug him, all eyes in the pub suddenly on them thanks to her excited screaming. But he hugs her back and then they sit down with Jesse and Lena, talking animatedly together.

"Is there anything more wonderful than being young and in love?" Ana sighs, watching them.

"Ohh, come on, Ana, that isn't love – they've only just met," Torbjörn says. Jack shakes his head.

"It feels so long ago but those feelings never leave you," he says, wistfully. "It's good to see her looking so happy after everything she's been through. Feels like only yesterday we were picking her up from the airport for her induction."

Jack has always been fond of Hana. She suffered for a long time after escaping the ruins of her home town, and it was Jack who looked out for her during those first few missions, Jack who escorted her to Angela's office in the dead of night when she was shaking too much to sleep.

He's smiling now, but Angela can see a little sadness in him. Jack is probably always going to worry about Hana after all that, even though she's much stronger now than she was then.

"Oh, Jack, you say that like you're seeing her off on her wedding day!" Angela says playfully, trying to lighten him. She notes that he's on his third beer, which correlates with him being a little more reminiscent than usual. Jack has never been a big drinker.

"Don't worry," Ana says, patting his arm. "There'll be no father figure better than you to walk her down the aisle when the time comes."

Jack just laughs, warmth in his eyes when he looks at both of them.

"I'm not her father, but thank you, ladies. Just looking out for our protégés."

"Well, I'm going to get another drink," Angela says then, smoothing out her dress as she stands. "Would anyone like anything?"

"Steady on Angela, some of us haven't even finished our sixth… seventh… whichever beer this is yet!" Reinhardt says, his voice a proud and merry bellow. Angela chuckles, heading over to the bar when the rest of them decline her offer.

There's an opening between Dan from legal and Jessica from finance where she can slot in. Angela watches the barmen rush around making cocktails and pulling pints while she waits to be served. It's dark outside now, the music a little louder than when she arrived to account for the chatter of so many people. There's a distinct sound which she can suddenly hear above the music, though - that of wood clanking on wood. Angela knows exactly what it is and turns around.

Junkrat has arrived with Roadhog. He looks relaxed, wearing the same shorts and shirt he was in earlier, the plaster still on his arm from where his blood was drawn. He says something over his shoulder to Roadhog and then his face brightens when he sees Angela, giving her a friendly wave.

They walk on over, the clanking of Junkrat's leg interspersed with an unidentifiable jingling coming from Roadhog. Dan from legal looks around and almost jumps seeing these two formidable looking men approach, quick to get his change from the barman and escape. Junkrat takes Dan's place beside Angela with Roadhog a looming presence behind them both. Roadhog acknowledges her with a nod, which Angela supposes is his version of a smile, seeing as his face is covered.

"Fancy seeing you here!" Junkrat says cheerfully. His shirt and shorts are looking much dirtier than when she saw him this morning, but Angela is happy to see that his eyes are still clear and hydrated. He must be using the eyedrops as instructed.

"I was starting to think you two weren't going to show up," she says. "What can I get you both to drink?"

Junkrat shakes his head, already pulling his wallet out. "On the contrary my dear, allow me. What'll it be for ya?"

"It's alright, I'll get these," Angela says, unsure if she should be suspicious of his generosity. Junkrat's wallet is absolutely stuffed.

"Come on doc, don't be shy, it's my treat! What're ya having?"

Junkrat looks pleased with himself just for offering so she decides to oblige him. "If you insist. I wouldn't mind a beer, actually." Angela is in the mood to drink more than usual tonight. Beers aren't usually her thing, but they're great as a rare treat – greater still as a means of getting a little tipsy with new colleagues.

Junkrat's eyebrows lift up like he's impressed. He flags down the barman. "A pint for this lady here and two double rum and cokes please, mate."

Angela glances between the two of them while they wait, wondering if Roadhog is here as Junkrat's bodyguard or if they are actually friends. He hasn't said a word yet, standing behind them like he's protecting them from the rest of the pub. She wonders if she should feel uncomfortable about being boxed in by this silent giant, but she doesn't. Perhaps it's because she's already met and spoken to both of them – conducted their physical exams, even – but Angela feels pretty relaxed.

The drinks are poured out in front of them and Junkrat pops a straw into Roadhog's glass. "Cheers," he says, and the three of them clink their glasses together.

"Here's to Overwatch's Junker infiltration," Angela says, making Junkrat laugh. "And here's to you, Junkrat, for this. Thank you."

"Not at all doc. Consider it my thanks for everything today," he says, and she can't help returning his smile as they take a drink.

Junkrat sets his glass on the counter, half of his rum and coke gone already. His eyes narrow in scrutiny as he looks over to where the other agents are sitting.

"Right, so before I go over there and make a fool of m'self, lemme see if I recognise everyone." Junkrat leans in towards Angela so she can hear him. His voice is easily distinguishable even amidst the pub noise, but she leans towards him in kind, following his eyes. He smells quite strongly of diesel. "I know that that one's Tracer, that's easy," he says, "and – hold on a minute. Is that Lúcio?"

Angela nods. "Yes, the Lúcio. You're not the only famous additions to our team, you know."

"I'd say notorious is probably a more fitting term for us, but I'll take famous. Sounds flashy," Junkrat says. "Anyway, no idea who that other bloke is."

"That's Jesse McCree. He's been with us for quite some time in one way or another. He was actually an outlaw too, like you."

"Hey, former outlaw like me, y'mean," Junkrat corrects her. "As of this morning I think you'll find I am a changed man."

This makes Roadhog laugh. "Yeah, right," he grunts, and Junkrat huffs indignantly.

"Don't you 'yeah right' me!"

"I don't think I'm the one you'll need to convince," Angela says. She takes a long sip from her beer, enjoying the way Junkrat looks at her, hopeful and worried at the same time.

"Oh?"

She gestures over to where Lena is sitting. "Certain people may find it difficult to look past certain crimes that have been committed against certain monarchies."

"Ahhh… shit," Junkrat says. "Yeah, I think I know what you're on about." He groans and rubs a hand across his face, knowing he'll be in for it when he introduces himself to Lena. Angela immediately feels bad, afraid that she might've dampened his good spirits with this when it was supposed to make him laugh.

"Don't worry, I'll have your back," she says, smiling when he looks through his fingers at her. "Just thought it was worth mentioning in case you go over there bragging about it and get, you know, punched. I can fix a bruised face, but a bruised first impression not so much."

Angela is relieved when Junkrat does laugh at this. "Thanks, doc. You're really saving my arse today."

"Just doing my job," she says airily, patting his back. "Come on, let's go and say hello."

They head over to the younger agents. Lúcio is showing Hana something on his phone, but when Junkrat greets them, she looks up with a gasp.

"Woah! Hey, you, long time no see!" she says. To everyone's surprise, Hana immediately gets up and hugs him.

"Alright Miss , s'been a while!" Junkrat says, squeezing her back before she lets him go. Angela and Lena share a wide-eyed look.

"Uh. You two know each other already?" Lena asks.

"Didn't I tell you guys? Junkertown is, like, super famous for its mech battles," Hana says. "I went there last Christmas when I was travelling. That's when I met these two!"

This is news to Angela. She remembers Hana's annual leave at Christmas, but she can't recall any mention of Junkertown. Actually… Hana's MEKA was quite different when she returned, now that Angela thinks about it. She remembers being impressed by it during testing prior to an assignment, and Hana had mentioned 'this crazy Aussie guy' who'd taken a look at it.

"I was having sooo many problems with my defence matrix, but then this guy came along and not only fixed it, but increased its duration and improved the spread of my cannon fire." She pulls on Junkrat's arm like he's a fairground prize she's just won. Junkrat puffs out his chest in pride, enjoying the fact that he's being shown off.

"I s'pose I did do a pretty stellar job on it," he sniffs.

If Lena's eyebrows went any higher they'd be off her face. "Well. Nice to meet you," she says, and Angela can tell she's doing her best to sound polite. She stands and shakes Junkrat's human hand.

"And y'self, Miss Tracer, pleasure to meet ya."

Lena's smile is a hard line on her face. Junkrat looks nervous when he smiles back, and Angela can see him wince - notices then that Lena's grip on his hand is rather firm.

"Not planning on stealing anything this time, are you?" Lena asks, darkly. His hand is going white.

"Wh- Who, me? Of course not-"

"Just kidding," she says, releasing his hand. Junkrat laughs, the sound immediately trailing off into a squeak when Lena's eyes narrow at him. "I know you wouldn't dare."

"And this is Roadhog," Angela says quickly, giving Roadhog an encouraging push so that he steps forward between them.

"Hi," he says.

Lena looks him up and down. She isn't fazed at all by how monstrous he is, though Angela supposes he doesn't look quite as menacing when he's sipping his drink through a straw. Lena shakes his hand too, though she doesn't seem to try crushing it this time.

Jesse pulls over a couple of extra stools so the Junkers can join them, and then Reinhardt comes over with two bottles of champagne and some flute glasses. The rest of the older agents follow him, and while everyone else becomes acquainted and Reinhardt pours out the champagne, Angela takes a seat beside Junkrat, grateful to sit down now that she's starting to feel the effects of those cocktails. He's trying to rub colour back into his human hand.

"I see you managed to survive," she says. Junkrat's face instantly inverts from a pronounced scowl into puppydog eyes and a wibbling lip, and Angela laughs, amazed by his elasticity. Junkrat is really quite funny.

"Thought I was gonna need a new one for a minute there," he says, almost whimpering. Angela smiles sympathetically at him, even more amazed that he looks pitiful enough for her to feel genuinely sorry for him.

"You know, if you did need a new one, it wouldn't be a problem."

"Y- Wait, I see what's going on here." Junkrat squints at her. "You just wanted an excuse to replace both me hands, didn'tcha?" he asks, playfully nudging her arm.

Angela purses her lips against a chuckle. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she says, and he nudges her again, grinning now.

"You cheeky thing! Ya did, didn'tcha! Didn'tcha!"

"Nope! I'd never do such a thing!" Angela laughs, gently batting his hand away. Being teased and poked like this reminds her of being in the playground, chased around by the boys back when she was at school.

"Sheesh, you've really got it in for me, doc. And here I was thinkin' you were takin' care of me." Junkrat gives her the puppydog eyes again. "I thought I was special!" he wails.

"Oh, Junkrat, you are special," Angela says, compelled to put her arm around his shoulders and give him a brief, comforting squeeze. Gosh, she'd almost forgotten how broad he is.

"You mean it?" Junkrat sniffles, his eyes saucers. For a six foot six Australian bomberman, Junkrat looks adorable – a thought which Angela should probably be alarmed by, but finds that actually she isn't. It's probably just the alcohol as she's several cocktails and half a beer in now, and it's making her feel warm and a little fuzzy. More susceptible to Junkrat's criminal wiles, she thinks, hearing it in Lena's voice in her head.

"Of course I mean it," she says. He keeps making those eyes at her and she can't help giving him another squeeze, one which he leans into this time, playing along with her coddling. Somehow Angela is finding it easy to partake in this playful and slightly physical banter with Junkrat, something she hasn't done with anyone for a very long time. Maybe it's because she's already been physical with him in a professional capacity – joked with him about taking his top off, even - and the boundary that's normally there with an acquaintance has already breached as a result.

Or maybe it is just the alcohol. Whatever it is, Angela feels very relaxed with him right now, though it helps that he's doing such a good job of making her laugh.

"You're very special," she says, releasing him. She drops her voice and cups her hand over his ear. "And don't let any British bullies tell you otherwise," Angela whispers then, loudly.

This gets Lena's attention. Angela reaches for her beer to down the rest of it, and Junkrat mimics her, downing the rest of his rum and coke. Lena frowns, but she's smiling, too. "Subtle," she says, and Angela can't help giggling when Junkrat grins at her, feeling like a kid passing notes in class.

"Now then, everyone!" Reinhardt calls out, standing up. He lifts his champagne flute with a flourish. "A toast, to our new members!"

Angela puts the empty beer down to grab her champagne flute, and everyone brings their glasses in for a clink – even Lena, albeit begrudgingly when she finds her glass is directly opposite Junkrat's. The team call a collective 'cheers!' before taking a drink and Angela winces a little, the champagne sharp as it fizzes down her throat. Roadhog is sipping his through another straw, and when she looks over to him, Junkrat has downed his champagne in one long gulp.

"So how long you fellas been in the country?" Jesse asks then, when the toast is over and everyone resumes chatting.

"Ehhh, 'bout a week," Junkrat says, wiping his mouth. "Think we arrived in London on… Sunday? Lemme tell ya, travelling for 24 hours next to this guy is a killer." He thumbs at Roadhog, who just sighs. "Never again. Next time I'm hiring m'self a private jet."

"A private jet? Sounds like you've got some cash to burn," Jesse says, sounding very interested. Junkrat swallows.

"Well I mean y'know, that uh- that was just a joke, 'course."

Jesse smirks. "Uh huh."

"Where are you guys staying?" Lúcio asks, and Junkrat looks at him like he's just saved his life.

"Islington! Here in the city. We got a flat close to Angel station."

"Oh cool! You didn't go in-house either then, huh?"

New agents coming into Overwatch are usually offered dormitory housing close to HQ. Hana recently moved out of these dorms and into her own apartment, thanks to all her sponsorships and a payrise last quarter. Angela imagines Lúcio will probably have an apartment of his own too, but she's surprised to hear that Junkrat and Roadhog are apparently living together. It doesn't seem like they're a couple from what she's seen so far.

"Naaah," Junkrat says, wrinkling his nose. "Having our own place is much better, need me independence too much."

"Your own place, huh? You bought yourself an apartment?" Jesse asks. He's leaning in now, clearly fishing for the lowdown on Junkrat's financial situation, though Angela is pretty interested to hear his response too. Junkrat opens his mouth only for Roadhog to forcefully elbow him.

"We're renting," Roadhog says.

"Right." Jesse takes a chip, chewing slowly on it while he watches Junkrat furiously rub his arm. "Well, welcome aboard," he says then, apparently letting him off the hook. "I expect you fellas will start your training with our lovely Miss Ziegler next week."

Angela gives Jesse the usual look of flattered embarrassment.

"I'm sure she'll go easy on you while you get used to bein' in the big smoke," Jesse says, winking at her.

"Fat chance of that," Lena laughs.

"Hey, no free passes expected here. I'm ready to get started," Lúcio says, holding up his hands. "But also, real talk? I'm happy we've got the weekend to get settled cause man, this jetlag sucks."

Angela has to think for a moment, her champagne-addled brain taking a bit longer to process where Lúcio has come from. "Ah, right," she says. "You've come forwards in time, haven't you? That's usually more punishing than travelling backwards. That is, unless you're Lena."

"Yeah, I didn't find it so bad coming back to the UK from Korea last year and that's nine hours," Hana says. "How have you two found it, coming from Australia?"

Roadhog and Junkrat look at each other, offering a mutual shrug.

"S'alright," Junkrat says. "Done plenty of travelling before coming here so y'sorta get used to it. Visited the UK, er, a handful of times before now, which, y'know, helps." He seems to be aware that Lena is scowling at him and chooses his words carefully. "For… er… sightseeing! Big Ben n'all that. Definitely not for stealing or conducting other criminal activity." He coughs. "Asidefromthatonetime."

"I gotta say, London is crazy different to Rio," Lúcio says, once again coming to Junkrat's rescue before Lena can pounce. "I mean, both are pretty crazy cities, but London's a different kinda crazy. Like… everyone's in a rush, all the time. Everywhere. And so angry. What's up with that?"

"Right?" Hana says. "Coming here was such a shellshock, everything is so different. I think the people are actually pretty friendly though. I got lost my first day here, and then I was trying to find this one place in Chinatown and I had no idea where I was…"

Hana retells the tale of her first day out in London and all of the Overwatch team listen in. Angela can't help watching Lúcio look at Hana, the fondness in his eyes and the way his smile softens. Angela smiles dreamily, resting her chin in her palm. It's been a very long time since she had a crush on anyone. If a crush is indeed budding somewhere between them, she thinks it would be wonderful.

"… and they were super helpful and nice," Hana sighs. "But then sometimes you get a real jerk who pushes past you on the sidewalk and doesn't even apologise! So it's swings and roundabouts, I guess."

"Eh, there're jerks everywhere," Jesse says. "London's much the same as any big city. You boys'll be fine."

"And I will take into account the time differences you're operating on," Angela says, looking between the three newbies. "So don't worry. At least, not too much."

"Thank you, doc," Lúcio says, politely appreciative.

"Yeah, thanks mate." Junkrat reaches over to grab the champagne on their end of the table. "Don't worry, I won't tell the others that ya think I'm special," he whispers then, so only Angela can hear. He's grinning at her when he pulls back, and Angela returns it, suddenly aware that her face feels rather hot.

Junkrat's grin is short-lived, though - he goes to pour himself another glass only to find the bottle is empty. "Damnit. Roadie!"

Roadhog stands up, the intonation somehow enough to indicate that it's time for more alcohol.

"Anybody want a drink?" Junkrat offers openly. Angela shakes her head when he looks at her, realising in the process that she's starting to feel a little swampy. It's a good swampy, though, like she's submerged in the warmth of being tipsy in good company.

"I think I'm fine for now, thank you."

They head off to the bar. Lena swoops into Junkrat's empty seat with an evil look on her face.

"Think he feels welcome enough?" she asks. Angela frowns at her, trying and failing to appear disapproving.

"You're terrible. Somehow I think he got the message."

"Good. I don't want him thinking he can just get away with it."

Lena glances over her shoulder, then leans in close. "He's not… flirting with you, is he?" she asks suspiciously. It's such an unexpected and ridiculous question that Angela laughs.

"What? No! Of course not. We're just being silly."

"You're blushing."

"I'm also a little tipsy," Angela says, grateful that she's still sober enough to realise this. "Plus, didn't you hear? He and Roadhog are living together."

Not that it's any of Angela's business, but from what she's seen so far she doesn't think they're living together as a couple. However, if Angela has learned anything from meeting Junkrat today, it's to expect the unexpected from him, so it's not an assumption she feels confident about just yet.

"That doesn't necessarily mean they're dating," Lena says, seemingly in agreement with her thinking. "Anyway, I suppose it's good you're getting on with him," she concedes. "Just don't… y'know."

Angela knows exactly what's on her mind. "Lena, I'm going to treat both him and Roadhog just the same as I would anyone else," she says, softly. "I know better than to trust any new member from the get-go, you know that. All those issues we had with Genji were lessons to learn from, not mistakes to repeat."

Hearing this, something in Lena seems to give. Her shoulders visibly loosen.

"Thanks, doc. I know I'm probably just being silly, but-"

"Not at all." Angela puts her hand gently on Lena's arm. "You're being sensible, which is the best way to be."

She really doesn't think Lena has anything to worry about, but it's certainly better to be cautious. Genji was difficult to work with when he first joined the team, and Angela made the mistake of trusting him on several occasions on the battlefield only to be badly let down by him. She knows better now than to immediately trust any new agent, least of all those with a criminal record.

Lena smiles. "Thank you," she says, and Angela is relieved to see that she finally seems reassured by this.

They're quiet together for a moment, watching and listening to everyone around them. Angela has a peripheral awareness that it's getting later, closer to the time of her last train home, but she doesn't want to leave just yet. She feels so relaxed here, having laughed more being silly with Junkrat than she has in a long time. It's only the first day, but Angela is unafraid to admit to herself that the Junkrat she has seen so far seems… genuine, for lack of a better word. He didn't hesitate to defend himself during the medical, and he was happy to come along this evening and introduce himself to everyone despite being an outsider.

It doesn't mean she can completely trust him, as she's just told Lena, but Angela is really happy that he came along tonight. Well, and Roadhog, of course. Neither of them match the "good guys" vibe of their current Overwatch team, but are both a much needed breath of fresh air, instead. Well, perhaps that isn't the best expression for Junkrat, she thinks, glancing over to where he's standing by the bar. Junkrat is more like an injection of chaos, or perhaps an adrenaline boost, she isn't quite sure which is more fitting yet.

He's laughing about something, leaning over the bar while he waits to be served. They weren't actually flirting, were they? No, of course not. Junkrat is a colleague - still not much more than an acquaintance, really. They were just having a joke around. Getting along and having a rapport with someone doesn't mean you're flirting with them.

Angela reaches up to touch her face, surprised that it still feels warm. Probably time to stop drinking now. She'd like to sober up a little more before getting her train home.

Gradually, more people start leaving the pub to find somewhere else in London with a dancefloor. Reinhardt and Ana head off home after a little while, followed then by Jack – their nights of heavy partying ended years ago – though Torbjörn seems to have joined the Junkers at the bar for more drinks. Angela is still sitting with Lena and the others, all of them listening to some of Lucio's anecdotes from Rio.

By the time Angela checks her phone it's close to midnight. She's getting sleepy, the caffeine from her earlier martini having sustained her well until now. Torbjörn comes over to say goodbye, so it's probably a good time to head off, herself. When Lena and the others get up to leave, Angela stands with them, beginning to say her goodbyes just as the Junkers come back to their table.

"We're moving on to Soho," Lena says, a bit stiffly as she looks between Junkrat and Roadhog. "You're welcome to join us if you want."

"Oh." Junkrat seems surprised to hear that they're being invited along. "Sure, why not," he says then, Roadhog nodding beside him.

They all head outside. The air has cooled considerably after the heat of the day, though it's far from being cold yet. Angela gives the girls a goodbye hug, wishing them all good night, and the group turns to leave – except Junkrat.

"You're leaving?" he asks her, looking puzzled. Roadhog is standing behind him now too, waiting silently.

"Unfortunately. I don't want to miss my last train," she says.

"Oh right," Junkrat says. Angela smiles apologetically at him, touched that he looks so disappointed to see her go. "Is it far?"

"Well, home is about an hour and a half away, but the train station is just up the road."

"Alright then, we'll walk ya there."

"Oh- that's very kind of you, but I'm fine," Angela says, waving him off. "Go on, you'd better catch up with the others."

Junkrat looks around at Roadhog. Roadhog says nothing, just barely lifts his chin, but this is apparently enough of a communication for Junkrat to look back at her and shake his head.

"I'll get a taxi for ya."

"Oh, no, it's fine, really," Angela says, flustered now. Junkrat's already gotten his phone out. "Please, it isn't even ten minutes away, there's honestly no need."

Angela reaches out, puts her hand on his metal arm to stop him. He taps a few times and then lifts his phone up to show her.

"There y'go, all paid for," he says with a grin. "Should be here in a minute."

Angela looks at the phone display and then up to Junkrat. He's beaming at her.

"You really shouldn't have," she says, softly, her smile helpless and embarrassed. She's surprised when Junkrat pulls her against his side in an affectionate – no, a brotherly sort of squeeze. He's probably a little tipsy himself, she thinks.

"C'mon, doc, what sorta person allows a lady like y'self to go walking alone at night?" he laughs, like it's nothing. Angela laughs too, wondering when she's going to stop being surprised by everything Junkrat does.

"You are truly a gentleman," she says, sincerely. "Thank you."

"'Course. Gotta look after our Mercy."

He squeezes her again. For a split second Angela is torn between catching her last train home and staying out for a little longer, because Junkrat radiates warmth in a way that makes her sort of want to stay close to him. He lets her go just as the hovercab turns up, though, and she realises that she's probably a little tipsier than she thought, embarrassed to have thought something like that. It's definitely time to leave.

"Thank you," Angela says, when Roadhog steps up to open the door for her. She briefly holds his arm to steady herself before she gets in. "See you both next week."

"See ya next week, doc," Junkrat says, and both of them wave her goodbye as the taxi pulls away.

Angela's head is swimming by the time she boards her train. She's grateful for the cool glass window to lean against - can see her reflection in it, the light of the carriage harsh overhead. Angela was hoping to have sobered up more than this by now but she can see it, that warmth on her face from earlier – the blush that Lena had commented on.

It must have been warmer in the pub than she thought. Perhaps next week the weather won't be quite so hot, she thinks, closing her eyes as the train carries her out of the city. She can't help but smile a little, though, looking forward to coming back into London regardless of the weather.