[ She opens the door for him. When she steps back to let him in, she does a silly little Vanna White reveal gesture, even if she knows Vanna White is no one to him. Look, there’s your journal on the desk, in this tiny, crummy room. ]
Have it. I’ll get your guns.
[ She doesn’t mention that she’s already done some reading, anyway. Details. ]
[He doesn't get the flourish, but that she's doing it at all makes
him want to smile- almost does it, even. He takes the journal and
quickly puts it away again, even if it will no longer open any
doors.]
[ She goes to her dresser and drags open the bottom drawer — the top one is broken enough to not even sit in the tracks properly. His gun is slipped between a stack of clothes. She takes it out and gives it a look before bringing it back to him. ]
My partner likes to carry a revolver. I always made fun, they’re so damn slow to reload.
[ She lifts up the hem of her loose shirt and turns slightly; there’s a 9mm pistol tucked into the back of her waistband, and she takes it out. She wonders if she should have kept it all to herself, but it’s done. ]
No time like the present. It showed up with the rest of the stuff the Admiral took off me.
[He could get into a fight with her over this, probably- lying to
him about needing his gun, when she clearly didn't. Keeping information
from him. But he knows just how that goes, when you're in a gang,
when you're fighting for your life surrounded by liars and crooks and
thieves.
He runs both hands over his face and groans, but eventually
concedes.] I won't pretend to understand why. But a deal's a
deal.
[ She hates that she feels the tiniest twinge of guilt, being an asshole about this to the only person who hasn't taken advantage of her or betrayed her trust in so many years, but what was she supposed to do? Tell him she had it upfront or give him his shit immediately and lose ground on bargaining for it?
It's all too easy to just slip into business. ]
Good. Anything else of yours you want, you can have it, I don't hold onto shit I didn't pay for.
[He is banking on trust. On feeling like there's at least one person
on this Barge with her best interest in mind- even if it's part of a
transaction, he knows how important it is to have someone give a
damn.]
The photographs all stayed in my cabin. That's all I'll need.
[ She shakes her head. Six weeks of sleeping late, eating decently and talking to nice well-meaning people makes her usual ways feel slimy. She moves away from him, to the desk, and she sets her pistol on the table. Blockier than a revolver, but sleeker, too. ]
Come here. This is a Browning Hi-Power. If we're ever covering each other and someone needs to switch off, you'll want to know all the quirks.
Not much for aiming and firing, but it's got a magazine instead of a cylinder, so you can just slap a fresh mag into it to reload, and you can do it one-handed if someone wrecks your hand or you can't let go of something or someone.
[ She will never let Joel live that one day down. She shakes her head thinking on it, and she takes the gun back from him to go through the process of unloading the pistol to pull out the magazine, a little plastic casing with a spring in it. She pushes on it to show him. ]
See this spring? Every time you fire, it loads a new bullet in, so you don't have to cock the hammer again after the first one.
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Now I really am much obliged. [He sounds relieved, and quickly turns off his camera again. He's knocking on her door ten seconds later.]
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Have it. I’ll get your guns.
[ She doesn’t mention that she’s already done some reading, anyway. Details. ]
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[He doesn't get the flourish, but that she's doing it at all makes him want to smile- almost does it, even. He takes the journal and quickly puts it away again, even if it will no longer open any doors.]
Yeah. Thanks.
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[ She goes to her dresser and drags open the bottom drawer — the top one is broken enough to not even sit in the tracks properly. His gun is slipped between a stack of clothes. She takes it out and gives it a look before bringing it back to him. ]
My partner likes to carry a revolver. I always made fun, they’re so damn slow to reload.
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[He quickly slips it into his shoulder holster, keeping it close to his body. He points at the second drawer down, and asks:]
Three spare cartridges in there. This gun's only got 4 bullets left. Slow to reload or not, I could do with a couple more bullets.
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[ She’d considered negotiating on that, too, but it might be a long week. She retrieves them all, and then considers something. ]
You don’t know how to use a pistol, do you? A modern one?
[ As if “modern” means anything. ]
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[He holds his hand out and shakes his head.]
Seen one since comin' here, but never handled one.
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I’m going to show you. If you end up wanting it off me, you should know how to handle it, just in case.
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-wait, when are you gonna show me? [Does she already have a gun? Tesssss]
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No time like the present. It showed up with the rest of the stuff the Admiral took off me.
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So what do you need two old-fashioned pistols for? [Not that he's going to complain too much.]
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I don’t. I’m telling you what I already have as a gesture of good faith, Arthur, but the deal is you let me keep one when this week is over.
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[He could get into a fight with her over this, probably- lying to him about needing his gun, when she clearly didn't. Keeping information from him. But he knows just how that goes, when you're in a gang, when you're fighting for your life surrounded by liars and crooks and thieves.
He runs both hands over his face and groans, but eventually concedes.] I won't pretend to understand why. But a deal's a deal.
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It's all too easy to just slip into business. ]
Good. Anything else of yours you want, you can have it, I don't hold onto shit I didn't pay for.
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[He is banking on trust. On feeling like there's at least one person on this Barge with her best interest in mind- even if it's part of a transaction, he knows how important it is to have someone give a damn.]
The photographs all stayed in my cabin. That's all I'll need.
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[ She shakes her head. Six weeks of sleeping late, eating decently and talking to nice well-meaning people makes her usual ways feel slimy. She moves away from him, to the desk, and she sets her pistol on the table. Blockier than a revolver, but sleeker, too. ]
Come here. This is a Browning Hi-Power. If we're ever covering each other and someone needs to switch off, you'll want to know all the quirks.
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[He finally takes his hand off of his own gun, and steps forward to take hers. It feels light, almost fake.]
What's the biggest difference between shooting one of these?
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[ She will never let Joel live that one day down. She shakes her head thinking on it, and she takes the gun back from him to go through the process of unloading the pistol to pull out the magazine, a little plastic casing with a spring in it. She pushes on it to show him. ]
See this spring? Every time you fire, it loads a new bullet in, so you don't have to cock the hammer again after the first one.
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Huh. [Now that does interest him. He leans against the deck and takes a look at it from up close.]
Think the Enclosure's safe for a little target practice? You could do with a little practice on my antique.
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Maybe with guns from the Enclosure to save on ammo, but yeah. Been at least a couple years. You wanna go now?
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Yeah. We don't know what the hell's coming for us, but I want to be prepared. Everyone's on edge.
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Yeah. [He rubs his hand through his beard.] People with powers lost 'em or gained 'em, depending on what side they're on.
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[ Who could blame 'em, though? ]
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