[mid may, sam]

[sicparvasmagna]

He was probably supposed to give the gun back. Only, Nate has made a living out of not giving things back, so he doesn't. Solo's a nice enough guy and he'd had Nate's back when those damn toys were attacking, but it's not enough to make him feel guilty for pocketing the gun he'd handed him when things got dicey. It's a simple 9mm, and Nate can admit that it feels good in his hand, moulded to him, practically. That's definitely an exaggeration, but it's been a long time since he properly held a gun and he hadn't realised how weird it felt until he had one back in his grip.

Nate's been shit-talking Beth pretty much since the day he arrived about how much of a better shot he is than her, but it occurs to him that he's over a year out of practice. If someone had said to him before Darrow that he'd go an entire year without shooting a single bullet, he might have laughed. It's not that Nate particularly likes guns, but when it was a toss up between dying and shooting the other guy first, he thinks it's a pretty simple equation. It's not his fault people used to shoot at him a lot.

Well, it is, but he's not going to admit it.

The Hatchimals had been kind of fucked up but mostly not that dangerous, even if one of them had tried really hard to decapitate his brother. It's that sentence alone that has Nate deciding that he needs to get back into the saddle, so to speak, and practice. He's a natural shot and he knows he's not that close to retirement but it can't hurt to brush up a little.

He calls Sam, arranges to meet him at the shooting range. Sam has acquired a gun of his own, and Nate's pretty sure it was even legal. He has a damn permit, though Sam and a permit is an oxymoron if Nate ever heard one.

The place isn't overly busy, so Nate finds them a spot and hopes no one asks to see his. In the meantime, he makes short work of the first target while he waits, and if he imagines Marlowe's stupid face in front of it, no one has to know.

Comments

[seekmyfortune]

Sam's only a few minutes late, and only because he'd smoked a cigarette outside the range before coming in. He doesn't know if this place is no smoking, and for the most part, that wouldn't matter, but he's not one of those idiots that goes looking for trouble by smoking a cigarette near a loaded gun. Just because he's careful doesn't mean other people aren't, and he can imagine all the wonderful ways his cigarette would end up somehow close to his clips, and. Yeah, no thanks.

He's got a pair of small ear plugs on a plastic hoop around his neck, but since they're outside, he doesn't think he'll need them. It's not like he's never fired a gun, and there's going to be better noise dispersion than there had been when he'd met Billy, just a few days ago.

He waits until Nathan is done firing at the target, then nudges him with his elbow.

"I think you killed it," he assures.