That garnered a slight tilt of Amélie's head and a raise of her eyebrows. "Suit yourself. You are the one that likes to talk." Almost as though Sombra simply liked hearing her own voice. "Silence is an old friend of mine."

Even on this particular day, Amélie was comfortable without conversation. She was used to having no one to speak with - she didn't even talk to the headstone - though usually she was just sitting by the window watching the snow fall and the rest of Paris pass her by, continuing on its way as though she had never ever existed in the great city, had never danced under the lights.

But that was all so long ago. She should stop wondering what things could have been like. The thoughts always made her feel wrong in a way she couldn't explain.