North's just finishing his round, plunking deliberate shots into the target, two snug clusters in the head and chest by the time he finishes a few moments later and glances back at Carolina. It's good to see her. Surreal, just in how different the atmosphere is between them, but at the same time . . . it's good. A chance to just be around Carolina as another person was something he'd so naturally assumed he'd never get that it never even occurred to him to feel a certain way about it. But getting that chance? He's grateful for it.

"I might try to set up some shooting-on-the-move drills for next time," he muses, as close to commentary on her shooting as he's going to get for the moment. This is, after all, unranked marksmanship league. A large part of that is resisting the urge to compare, even slightly. "Mix it up a little."