"I do not have a game," Zenyatta answers smoothly. He'd expected some resistance from the moment he made his proposition. "I want to demonstrate my respect for you, and for your wishes."

Besides, he reasons silently, what harm could he really do to Junkrat? He's already missing one arm, as he's already so charmingly pointed out. He holds his hand out in hopeful expectation- hopeful, that is, that it won't be yanked clean out of his wrist joint for scrap metal.