psychic_hotline | 09 ☕ Voice

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Loki's gone.

Anyone organizing a party is advised to do so on a filter I can't see.

I'll be in the firing range if anybody needs me.

Son of a bitch.

[There's a very short pause and then she cuts off.]

[OOC: If anyone wants to spamattack a cop shooting at the stationary targets in the range they're encouraged to do so! Otherwise, responses will ICly come a little later.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

surfaceshine

Yeah. Remind me to return the favor sometime. [Dean is not unfamiliar with this phenomenon either - just that genetic clones losing their shit and trying to burn down the ship CES-first isn't one he's had a lot of call to to deal with. And certainly not when it's basically his fault.]

Want some friendly competition? Or should I just get outta your face?

Edited Date: 2012-10-09 06:37 am (UTC)

From:

psychic_hotline

If I wanted you outta my face, you'd know about it by now.

[It's dry, but...well, it's true. She starts reloading.]

I'd ask if you wanted to go get drunk with me instead, but...that'd kill you, so friendly competition it is.

From:

surfaceshine

I believe it. [Dean raises both eyebrows at the bit about being killed by drinking with her, but then displays a trait most people would say he doesn't even have and decides that right now is probably not the time to be walking blindly into drunken pissing contests. He smirks instead.]

Well, lucky for you then that I happen [Completely coincidentally!] to have brought my Colt.

[He gives her some space, producing the handgun in question from its usual position in his waistband because what are holsters apparently; doesn't look up while he's checking his own clip.]

You name the terms. And then maybe I'll babysit you through a few beers anyway. [...this with a small, sly smirk because he's just gently baiting her.]

Edited Date: 2012-10-14 09:06 pm (UTC)

From:

psychic_hotline

[She smirks back and glances at the target.]

Highest score after ten?

From:

surfaceshine

You're on. Call it. [Range-shooting isn't his favorite, but everyone could use a brush up; that may not be what this is about but that doesn't change the fact that it's true.

He clicks the safety off and raises his Colt, finding the matching target in front of the lane he's stepped to besides hers; at her signal, he'll start taking his shots.]

From:

psychic_hotline

[Sara pulls her ear defenders back on, waits to see if he'll do the same, then settles her stance and takes aim. She's not big on range shooting either - it all feels kind of artificial, and it feels like there's not many real-life situations improved by being able to hit a stationary target - but it's straightforward in a way that's almost meditative.

She pulls in a breath, lets it out and starts firing.]

From:

surfaceshine

[Dean, unaccustomed to having access to actual safety equipment - he learned in a field with a fence and a line of cans just like he later taught his brother - does eventually remember to put the damn things on; he also only has eight shots, so he has to stop to reload, but he does so quickly and gets off the last two in good time.

He's comfortable and familiar with this gun, out of all of them he owns; when the ringing stops and he's squinting down at the target, he can clearly see the cluster of shots near the center of the target, and could reliably point out where he started - the outermost - and the slow tightening of his aim as he progressed. All in all, not a bad showing. He grins over at her.]

'S gonna be close, Kemosabe.