[action] - backdated to during the graduation ball

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ 'Troublemakers are free to roam...'

And yet, Garden's most notorious is remarkable only in her absence. No graffitti, no saran wrap on toilet seats, no firecrackers tied to doorknobs. If you step out of the grand hall, though, and follow the muffled, rythmic sounds of a gun being fired, you'll find her in the WTR-301 classroom, putting lead in practice targets. Her form is slightly off--she's going to give herself a sore arm if she doesn't change that--but the basics are there and her aim is brutal. The metal is warm in her hands, and with the protective headgear muffling the noise, all she had to focus on is the steady beat of recoil. Blam, blam, blam, click. Reload.

She doesn't want to think about loss; this is the gun that her father used. She stuck a gun just like this in a man's mouth, once, when he threatened her. (It's a good memory. Sort of.) She wants to make friends with this gun. Gokudera's gone, and when she thinks that probably no one realized but her she gets pissed off, but that's the truth and she's going to have to bust her own ass this semester if she wants to stay, after failing two classes last time. He won't be here to nag her into homework. She briefly wonders about just leaving Garden and touring; now that she has No-Time back, it would be simple. A long, long walk. But then faces spring to mind, and what if No-Time was gone, and she was looking forward to that one class...it's just easier, she tells herself. It's just easier to stay.

Blam, click, reload. Got nothing better to do? Come bug her--just don't sneak up on her, she's in a mood, has a loaded weapon and less than zero qualms on using it. ]

Comments

[freewolfmoon.livejournal.com]

[The door opens and closes in the background. Fenris helped put up the decorations for the graduation ball, because that sort of mundane ridiculousness is what they're paying him for, but after that, he had no interest in actually going to it. So he's investigating some of the more unusual classrooms in a time when he thought there wouldn't be anyone in them. He was, it appears, wrong.]

Those are guns?

[He's seen a few since coming here, but rarely in action, and then only from a distance, in the training center.]

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ She pauses as she sees him out of the corner of her eye, tilting back the muffs from her ears. She considers him for a moment, taking in the ears and--mostly the ears. At his question, she doesn't hesitate before answering, expression a bit tart. ]

No, this is actually a cooking utensil. But it's an easy mistake to make.

[freewolfmoon.livejournal.com]

[He doesn't bat an eye or change his calm expression. Instead, he reaches back to touch the hilt of the sword slung across his back.]

It must be for more long-range dinners. My spatula here can only flip nearby pancakes.

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ That gets a tiny smile out of her. ]

I moonlight as a delivery girl. [ Points the gun, with the safety on, at the target and mimics shooting. ] 'Boom, boom--that'll be $6.28 please, would you like complimentary cinnamon sticks?'

[ Her arm swings back down. She glances at his sword. ] And remind me never to eat the pancakes, where you come from.

[freewolfmoon.livejournal.com]

Wise.

[He lets his own hand fall from the sword; no point in drawing it in a shooting range.]

It's a crossbow with explosives, isn't it? They're deadly enough without. I knew...

[He pauses, frowning slightly.]

I know a dwarf back home who uses a sophisticated one. But these are smaller and faster. I can see the appeal.

[kitchenfistfirechaosstyle]

[A flavorful aroma, spicy and warm -- the smell of curry?]

You look as glum as a fish being served with white wine. I take it dancing is not fun for you?

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ Oh fuck, not this guy again. Finger off the trigger. Safety. Gun down. Earmuffs off. ]

Not the kind they're doing. Why aren't you up there? [ And not down here. ]

[kitchenfistfirechaosstyle]

I move quickly. Besides, the only girl I would really want to dance with is of a nature to have a very full card. [He waves a hand dismissively.]

Your thoughts seem deeper than a stewpot that serves ten.

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ A full...card? Like a credit card? It goes over her head. ]

It's a good thing my thoughts are none of your business.

[kitchenfistfirechaosstyle]

It is your stew to cook. But may I suggest a snack to tide you over until it is done?

[This one is only half-metaphorical. There's a tray on a nearby weapon stand with a steaming bowl of hot and sour soup. Needless to say it hadn't been there a moment ago, at least as far as anyone could say.]

[werepanther]

[Tom'd taken a break to grab something from his room - mainly another pack of cigarettes - but the sound of gunfire'd temporarily distracted him. Casually glancing at the gun, he can't help frowning as he watches her.

Of all the weapons he'd used before, guns were always his least favorite.]

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ It takes another magazine before she notices him. She lowers the gun, checks the safety, and then tilts her head at him, expression bland. What does he want? ]

[werepanther]

[He points a cigarette, slipped between his fingers, at the gun.] That the weapon you're going to specialize in?

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ She pushes back the headgear to hear his question better. ]

Yeah. What about it?

[ Her eyes track the movement of the cigarette between his fingers, but it's not a fixation--she just doesn't want to meet his face. ]

[easilytriggered.livejournal.com]

[After saying hello to a handful of people at the ball, Zephyr had wandered back out, yawning and cursing how boring it had been. As badly as he wanted to be a SeeD and just be done with all this training crap, he isn't entirely sure he wants to attend his own graduation ball if that's how it's going to be.

As he ambles through the empty halls, loosening his tie and untucking his shirt, he hears the familiar sounds of gunfire. It's not erratic or rapid enough to signify trouble in his mind, so he follows the sound out of curiosity, eventually poking his head into the WTR-301 classroom. And who does he see? Kiden. Shooting things. Rather angrily.

He stays by the door, observing her form and technique for a moment. He watches as she empties her current magazine, reloads, and when she finishes that one, Zephyr finally approaches her. He settles his hand on the gun, pushing the muzzle down toward the ground; having been shot twice in the head in the past, Zephyr's not real keen on repeating the experience.

Grinning, he raises his voice a little so she can hear him, despite the ear protection.]

You've got a good eye, but you're not holding it quite right.

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ She doesn't pause even as he approaches, figuring he of all people knew his way around a gun enough to avoid a bullet. When he reaches out and pulls her hand down, though, she willingly lowers it, finger falling from the trigger and careful not to aim it at her own feet.

At his comment, she turns her face to him, mouth tight, and nods, motioning to the target with her chin. Show me. No, she still isn't sure how things...stand with him right now, and honestly isn't keen on figuring it out, but she'll deal. He looks good in a suit. She'll tell him later he looks like a tool. For now, she'll let him take the lead. ]

[easilytriggered.livejournal.com]

[He gives her a look, shrugs, and plucks the gun out of her hands before reloading it and handing it back to her. Zephyr settles in behind her, adjusting her arms, her grip, and after a moment of consideration, even the stance of her legs. For all of his flashy moves and ridiculous gun-toting acrobatics, he doesn't start teaching at that level; Zephyr knows the importance of the basics--only after those are mastered can someone add their own flair to their abilities.

If he managed to help Leanne become the gun-wielding master that she is now (not that he'd ever admit that), he figures someone who already has good aim shouldn't be too hard to teach.

...So long as Kiden doesn't have too many bad habits he has to break.]

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ She lets him adjust her, trying to ignore the way the bandaged, recently-tattoo'd skin at her nap heats up when he gets in close. A part of her wants to shove him away, the other part fights to keep from pulling him close when he strays too long within reach of her itching fingers.

It feels a bit awkward, having him go so far as to adjust her legs (seriously, it's not like her legs are just going to stay in the same spot during a fight!), but she can tell from how focused he looks that he knows what he's doing...whatever it is.

When he's done, she watches him move away a few steps before cocking the gun again; his cue to guard his ears. And fires.

Oh. She hadn't realized she was putting pressure on that shoulder until now. Much better.

She unloads the magazine into her target's 'head' with vicious abandon. ]

/trollface

[swagneto]

[ Balls weren't Erik's cup of tea, the entire aspect of dressing up, ridiculing himself for the mere praise of someone else a foreign concept. The sound of metal at an astonishing speed has him distracted, making his way to the classroom, leaning against the door, arms folded across his chest.

Of course, it would be the same girl who had taunted him previously, arguments over his past -- future, rather. Erik had no doubt she'd turn the weapon on him the moment she had a chance, though he wasn't here looking for a fight, least of all now. He'd wait till the gun clicked empty before making his move, pulling the gun out of her reach and towards his hands, the only indication Erik needed to mark his presence. ]

/screa--i mean

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ She doesn't notice him there, thanks to the ear protection, unless her gun is suddenly out of her hands. She watches it float away for one bewildered moment, before flinging off the ear muffs and facing him with a snarl and curled fists. Judging by the knowing look he's giving her, he's read her file and seen her picture. ]

That's mine! Don't you have somebody else to mess with?

:)

[swagneto]

Maybe. [ Erik takes a step closer, gun held loosely in his hand, through he doesn't reach out to hand it over just yet. He did do his research, taking into account her past and time here at the Garden, though it was her reaction with him previously that Erik was far more interested in, curious as to exactly why someone would bear such a grievance against him -- someone like him at least, and not one of Shaw's cohorts. ]

I thought perhaps we could talk, if you don't mind.

[ And skip the violence. ]

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

God, would you fuck off? Do I look like I want to talk to you?!

[ She cuts herself off, frustrated, clenched knuckles white. A few seconds pass, and when she next speaks, her voice is under control again. ]

...I don't really have a choice, do I.

[totallynotaspaz.livejournal.com]

[Danny found himself drifting away from the graduation ball, following the curious sound of popping noises which grew progressively louder the longer he roamed.

What was it? He couldn't help but be curious.

When he arrived at the classroom and spotted Kiden with the gun, he stared, dumbfounded, for several moments, in plain view in the doorway. Oh. It's a gun.

...

Is it too late to back out and walk away? Danny hopes not, because he begins edging away, but ends up tripping with a yelp and clinging to the wall of the classroom, trying to not fall over in the process.]

[dumpsterdives.livejournal.com]

[ Kiden almost doesn't notice him until he falls and yelps, and she reacts on instinct--pointing the gun at him. A split second later, it's down, the safety's back on and she's pulling her headgear off with a snarl. ]

Are you fucking stupid?!

[totallynotaspaz.livejournal.com]

I--what?!

[He stumbles back up to his feet and presses himself against the wall as much as possible.]

I-I wasn't--I didn't--it was an accident!