Having just received his standard-issued noble steed from the Enforcer department, Jamison was making a routine patrol around the island's perimeter — getting accustomed to steering the horse as it had been a while — when he caught something in the corner of his eye near the water. After taking a peek with his spyglass, he trotted over.

          Stopping a few feet from the man, he hopped off the saddle and took a few steps closer. If the guy hadn't heard the hooves and proceeded to yell, Junkrat would as well and jump back in a comedic fashion. Otherwise/then, ❝ Hey, somfin' wrong with your shoes... or the grass? I can nick ya' a new pair of sneakers, but not sure wot I can do about the ground... ❞ A glance was given to the belt of explosives around his waist as an idea formed, and he grinned. ❝ Actually, if ya' find that particular patch of grass offensive, I can get rid of it for ya'? ❞ It was his job to make the citizens feel safe, after all.