"Shit, that's a tough one," he admits with a laugh. Marlowe had tried to fuck Nathan over like it was her job, but Rafe had been a key part in ruining both their lives fifteen years ago.

He fiddles with his gun, making sure it's loaded and the safety is on, for now. He takes the spot Nathan's just vacated. This range isn't like the indoor range, where a simple button-press brings the old target forward on a pulley system so it can be changed out and sent back for another. They're gonna have to share the target that's set up until one of them decides they feel like taking the walk out to change it themselves.

Since Nathan picked a lane so far from everyone else, Sam's not even worried about getting shot while doing it. But he still doesn't feel like taking that walk yet.

"Tell you what," he says, lifting his gun to aim. "You've got two hands. Punch 'em both." He grins over at him, then thumbs the safety off and fires off a couple of shots. It's just far enough away that he can see he hits, just not exactly where. He doesn't need glasses, or anything. It's just the light.

"Or, hey, we'll take turns!" he adds.