bang bang shoot shoot

[nofortunateson]

Who| North and Tucker, later open to others
What| Range time
Where| The shooting range
When| After Resistance is Futile
Warnings/Notes| Firearms, Tucker-standard double entendere cautions


[Closed to Tucker]

After the adrenaline of the mission, North's ready to relax - which, more often than not, means going back to routine as much as he can, as soon as he can. Showing a sim trooper around his rifle is hardly routine, but range time is, and there is something easy and almost nostalgic around the low-pressure act of blowing through ammunition with absolutely nothing on the line but vague intentions to keep improving.

He's there ten minutes before they're due to meet, out of his armor, gear in a long case tucked under his arm. Just enough time to put out some targets and get set up, he imagines.


[Open]

Maybe there's something infectious in the more constructive (or at the very least highly non-competetive) range time with Tucker. North's still there as much as he ever was, keeping sharp, but he's more likely to strike up a conversation, rather than get in, do his practice, and move on to the next item on the daily training schedule. After about a week of this he even puts up a standing notice near the entrance, around the time of his usual afternoon practice, which advertises the time slot as Unranked Marksmanship League. Not that he's actually going to point it out to York, but maybe there's something to his whole 'not everything has to be a competition' theory.

Comments

[nofortunateson]

Tucker gets a quirk of a grin at the expected commentary, one that makes it all the way to a snort when the repartee breaks down entirely. Even with much higher day-to-day stakes than they get in the Legion, he's always had a weak spot for a certain amount of jackassery. It's just . . . normal. Probably abnormally normal, considering this is also a sim trooper who somehow managed to wrangle himself an alien sword.

"If you're being technical, I've never been a sniper. Freelancer picked me up as a marksman." Rifle set up, he looks up, patting the ground directly behind the weapon. "Down here, Quickshot, prone position."

[lovernotafighter]

"Yeah, but isn't that like the same thing?" He made a face; this sounded like semantics at best, particulars at worst. There's a shot, you hit it, and it's a helluva lot easier to hit it with a sniper rifle than a pistol. That was just logic, right?

(Oh, Tucker, you had much to learn.)

He moved down, stretching out across the ground next to North. It was less "position" and more "lying around", but it was lack of knowledge more than a lack of effort; the sparkling wonder of this experience still hadn't left him.

"So, Church usually just carried it around like it was a regular rifle," he said, kicking his legs out. "Then again, I don't think he actually hit a single target with it."