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Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center, Friday

He had all the paperwork checked and ready in a file - and it was nothing to do with Rumekistan for once. Cable made a few digital copies while Jan bounced on his knee, giggling and hitting the table with a doll. He peered past her towards the door.

The Help Wanted sign was no longer situated near the door, but the open sign was.

[[ flying ocdless and SP today ]]

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Price entered the shop promptly one after it was open, wearing his SAS uniform, just for good measure.

"Good morning, sir," he said, a neutral expression on his bearded face. "What's the recon?"

"The recon is that you might be getting a job," he said, tossing the paperwork onto his desk.

"That is a very good thing to hear," Price said. "And I won't even ask what my future might be."

He didn't want to know. He also wasn't sure this was all truly real.

"Most people don't," Cable noted, leaning back in his seat. "That does mean I'm going to have to fill you in on the pecularities of the job."

"I just hope they don't involve a ridiculous uniform," Price said, comfortable enough to crack a mild joke. "But I'm ready to hear them."

"We're on an island with a sizable student body and few adults," he said, patiently, "Which is why our usual modus operandi is never to sell a weapon unless I approve it or there happens to be an invasion that day. Which happens more often than you'd think..."

"I can live with that," Price said. "Beats a simple three day waiting period, I say."

"But I need someone else with weapons experience to okay the sales, or hand over the goods if they've been okayed by me," he noted, "In the off chance someone is capable enough of bearing arms."

"And I take it," Price said, leaning in a bit. "That someone is me."

"You got it," Cable said, simply. "One month trial. We'll see if you can manage it. Tuesdays or Fridays?"

"Fridays," Price said. "Nothing ever good happened on a Tuesday."

"Fridays it is," he said, reaching into his desk for some keys. "You'll also have to keep an eye on the meditation room. Slot requests for the shooting range over to my phone, please."

"Right," Price said. "Invitation only on that, as well?"

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spring-lost.livejournal.com - 2009-12-12 06:07 (UTC) - Expand

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stayingfrosty.livejournal.com - 2009-12-12 06:08 (UTC) - Expand

Triela had arranged to meet Karla in the morning, but she'd still showed up a bit early. In part because she preferred to be early, and in part because she still wasn't sure about the boots she was wearing. She'd spent a while arguing with herself about whether it was a good idea to wear the boots she'd gotten from somewhere last weekend. They had heels, and they were tight, clearly designed to show off the calves.

She scowled and hefted the rifle case in her right hand (which was bigger than she was) and waited.

"Triela." Cable didn't really pause beyond nodding at her in greeting, ushering Jan into the meditation room and... shutting it. "I'll let you in."

Triela nodded her appreciation, being careful not to let her oversized case hit anything as she moved.

"The range has an advanced security system," he said, opening up the door to allow her in. "I suggest you stay on the beaten path..."

"Thank you for the warning." Triela kept her tone exceedingly polite. It was his range after all. He could give her stupidly obvious advice if he wanted to.

"Are you interested in joining us?" Again: it was worth being polite in case she wanted to do this again sometime.

It was a very subdued and shame-faced Karla that came into Wellspring Arms. She gave Mayor Summers a quick nod before slinking over to Triela's side. "Hey," she murmured. "Thanks for setting this up. It's just going to be us today, right?"

And not any of the people Karla had professed an undying love for over the past few days.

She was really glad to be with Triela right now. She hadn't made a fool of herself in front of the other girl--perhaps one of the few students in the school she could say that of--and there was the slightest possibility that Triela wouldn't laugh at her too much when she finally told her what was going on.

"Just us," Triela nodded quietly, appreciating Karla's lack of comment about her boots. Even if that lack of comment was precipitated by her distracted state. It also helped that they hadn't run into each other over the weekend.

Still, guns were important and dangerous so... "You okay? I don't know if it's a good idea to do this if you're too distracted." She'd trust Karla to be a good judge of whether she was distracted or not.

"I'm going to supervise," he said, simply, and strode into the room, taking up a spot at the back of it.

That earned a nod that was either approval or acknowledgment, or maybe some weird hybrid of the two. Then Triela went about pointedly ignoring Cable. If he wanted to offer input she'd listen, but as long as he was just observing she wasn't going to let his presence influence her performance.

"This will give me something to focus on besides how much of a carriage-wreck my week has been," Karla said firmly. "Huh, I'd be a poor witch if I couldn't shunt everything aside in order to work an inportant piece of Craft."

Her gaze slid over to Mayor Summers. "Besides, if we don't shoot now, who knows when you'll be able to show me next."

And then the tiniest of smiles. "And I've even eaten lunch."

[LJ, WHY YOU FAIL AT POST?!?! and why do I just fail?]

Triela snorted, darting a glance at Cable as well. "In that case, let's not waste time." She set the rifle case on the floor. It was longer than she was tall. By nearly a foot.

"As with most things about guns, a sniper rifle is a trade-off. It has power, range, and accuracy, but at the cost of size an maneuverability. The point is to shoot people from distances so long that they don't see you at all, which is good because you can't really defend yourself with one of these since they're so large and heavy."

She knelt down to flick open the case's latches. "This isn't a weapon you use in a fight, it's a weapon you use to kill people."

[You're mockery assumption is correct... Does this mean that I'm predictable?]

Karla's eyes widened as she took in the sheer size of the case. "What is the rate of fire?" she asked. "I mean, you don't want to just shoot this thing willy-nilly, but how quickly can you shoot it once you've lined up the shot?"

In other words: if this doesn't get through someone's shields with the first shot, what are your odds of getting off a second? Or even thirds? She figured Triela would get what she was asking about.