Chamuelle LaCroix, Widowmaker, continued to lie there, feeling the remnants of the tickle gas fading away. The sensation of being tickled to death lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the strange ordeal. The scent of perfume still hung heavy, mixing with the conflicting feelings of awareness and oblivion. The mechanical yet human hands continued their exploration, each touch sending a shiver down her spine. But Widowmaker was no stranger to danger, no stranger to feeling vulnerable yet...