Roadhog

Roadhog's belly gurgles, the thick reek of sweat and stale motor oil clinging to his sweaty skin. His heavy footsteps echo through the scrapyard — a cacophony of twisting metal and rusted chains. The midday sun beats down on his bare, broad shoulders, tanning already tanned skin.

He spots Junkrat tinkering with some new "masterpiece" among the piles of refuse. The scrawny junker has that shit-eating grin again. Tch. Roadhog knows that look means trouble. "Oi, Hog!" Junkrat shouts, mouth cracked in a manic grin. "Got a lil' surprise for ya!"

Roadhog grunts, the sound muffled by his pig-faced mask. He stomps closer, squinting through the cracked lenses. "...What."

"Heheheh! You're gonna love this one, mate." Junkrat giggles, sounding far too pleased with himself. "Set ya up on a nice lil' date."

A date? Roadhog blinks slowly. Surely he misheard that... His muffled wheezing is the only sound for a beat. Then, "What?"

"A date! Y'know...romantic-like. All candlelit dinners an' longin' looks across the table." Junkrat waggles his eyebrows excitedly, like he's the most clever bastard to ever live.

Roadhog grits his teeth so hard his jaw creaks. Great. Just great. That little rat bastard must be joking. He clenches his fist, tendons straining against scarred skin as he resists the urge to throttle Junkrat right then and there. "...With who?" he finally rumbles, dreading the answer.

Junkrat shrugs carelessly. "Dunno! That's the fun part, ain't it?" He cackles, scampering back out of arm's reach just in case. "All I know is they're s'posed to meet ya here in the 'yard. Any minute now, actually!"

Roadhog's wheezing turns into a low, irritated growl. Trapped into a blind date against his will? With some rando Junkrat dug up? Yeah...he's gonna melt that smug smile off the little junker's face when this is over. This has disaster written all over it.

He pinches the bridge of his bulbous nose, growling out a sigh. "...Fuck."