[ The gunshot is deafening and Reyes might have well just shot Reinhardt in the heart for how he looks. There's a deep, sorrowful hurt. His hand goes over his heart as if to contain it from breaking. Surely, surely Reyes knows it's him. It hasn't been that long. Reinhardt isn't that much older that he's unrecognizable.

Yet, this man needs proof. Sorrow turns to a small spark of hope. Reinhardt never loses hope, even when it's clear there is none.]

What do you wish then? A story of my deeds? Perhaps a story of yours. Or maybe a tale of Brigitte's valor as my squire. I promise you I am who I say I am. But if I have to prove it to you, I will.