( Provided they aren't at each other's throats literally or metaphorically, she thinks they'll be just fine. Take Overwatch out of the equation and eventually they'll stop arguing about the coulda-woulda-shoulda's, with nothing to do for it here or any longer. It's a matter of the past, now, and nothing good comes of raking over old coals. They won't put off any heat and simply crumble to ash.
They're currently facing something more worrisome, even if Jack doesn't seem terribly concerned— all Angela can think about is infection, parasitic debris in their bloodstreams, blocked arteries, and a million other possibilities for what this could mean from a medical standpoint and it has her fingertips curling over the heel of his hand, not quite slipping in to hold it but stabilizing the way she keeps her arm close to his. She doesn't want to hurt him for her own clumsiness either.
His answer has her expression falling, brows pinching as her eyes shift elsewhere. The next exhale is more of a sigh, disappointed. )
I wish I could remember seeing them. It's been so long.
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They're currently facing something more worrisome, even if Jack doesn't seem terribly concerned— all Angela can think about is infection, parasitic debris in their bloodstreams, blocked arteries, and a million other possibilities for what this could mean from a medical standpoint and it has her fingertips curling over the heel of his hand, not quite slipping in to hold it but stabilizing the way she keeps her arm close to his. She doesn't want to hurt him for her own clumsiness either.
His answer has her expression falling, brows pinching as her eyes shift elsewhere. The next exhale is more of a sigh, disappointed. )
I wish I could remember seeing them. It's been so long.
( She misses them terribly. )