Seeing as it wasn't primetime and he hadn't noticed anyone on his way over, Jamison had hoped to enjoy the hot springs in peace, alone. Not that he'd gotten to do much other than patrolling the town so far, but adjusting to everything still took a mental toll. Especially since the modifications were gone from his prosthetics, meaning no speaker and no music from that speaker. With a pout, he stared at his mechanical arm. At least it was fancier now with a steampunk shell. Well, guess he'd have to make his own music... ❝ Ya' are my fiiire, the one desiiire, believe when I say, I want it thatta' way~ ♪ ❞

          It was during the chorus he noticed the newcomer and all serenading ceased immediately. At his words, Junkrat gave a nod toward a nearby seat, gesturing for the guy to make himself at home. ❝ Take a load off, mate... ❞ Wait, he looked familiar. The floating... Oh shite. Maybe he wouldn't recognize Jamison. Or perhaps he would have forgotten about him. Yeah, old people supposedly didn't have very good memories, right? ❝ So, uh, how long ya' been stand—er, floatin' there? ❞