Bob Saginowski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dangerous_dog) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2016-03-14 01:10 pm
dangerous_dog) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-03-14 01:10 pm
Entry tags:
open post: target practice
Who: Bob, Rocco and Chris, and OPEN for Bob.
What: Bob hangs out at the outskirts of town, giving shooting lessons and clipping cans off stumps.
Where: The city limits.
When: Right now.
Warnings: Firearms. Discussions of violence in the context of self-defence.
Bob contacts Chris by communicator before making his way out to the edge of town, where no one is likely to end up in the line of fire by accident. They're not going to be at it long- there aren't enough bullets in town for that, but the ones they do fire, it's best to be safe about. He texts him a few landmarks, and then sets up clearing a range for them, heading out into it and setting up empty cans on various bits of rubble at different heights.
There'll be a brief flurry of gunfire to follow, followed by silence. If anyone wants to come investigate it'll be just Bob and Rocco, who's out of his most purely puppyish stage by now but still all too happy to bounce around his owner's feet, fetching a beaten up, grayed old tennis ball while Bob rescues his cans back; never know when metal like that will be useful.
He's careful with the bullets, but tennis balls, on the other hand, are much more likely to whiz past a bystander's ear.
What: Bob hangs out at the outskirts of town, giving shooting lessons and clipping cans off stumps.
Where: The city limits.
When: Right now.
Warnings: Firearms. Discussions of violence in the context of self-defence.
Bob contacts Chris by communicator before making his way out to the edge of town, where no one is likely to end up in the line of fire by accident. They're not going to be at it long- there aren't enough bullets in town for that, but the ones they do fire, it's best to be safe about. He texts him a few landmarks, and then sets up clearing a range for them, heading out into it and setting up empty cans on various bits of rubble at different heights.
There'll be a brief flurry of gunfire to follow, followed by silence. If anyone wants to come investigate it'll be just Bob and Rocco, who's out of his most purely puppyish stage by now but still all too happy to bounce around his owner's feet, fetching a beaten up, grayed old tennis ball while Bob rescues his cans back; never know when metal like that will be useful.
He's careful with the bullets, but tennis balls, on the other hand, are much more likely to whiz past a bystander's ear.
no subject
And Johanna knows that where Rocco is, Bob is. She lazily follows the dog until the larger man comes into view, then gives him a cocky sort of grin. She hasn't seen Bob since she started to turn, and while she probably should've come back once she was revived, she opted to stay alone for a little while, making sure that whatever happened to her wasn't coming back.
"Surprise."
no subject
"Think it takes turns?"
He wonders, without much context, but meaning, the horrible things this place does. Her eating people. Him ending up in a grave.
"Think it's me up next again?"
no subject
She shrugs. "Maybe. Seems like the gods here run on an equal opportunity torture system. At least they haven't worked out that they could get us at the same time."
Johanna grins, sharp and wild, but not entirely unpleasant this time.
"If they go for you again, I'm ready." One Johanna-grade shitstorm, coming right up.
no subject
Bob agrees, with a sensible nod. He believes that about her with all of his heart.
"I'm out here giving shooting lessons. You don't need them, eh?"
Would be his best guess about her.
no subject
"I'm a decent shot. Better with axes and knives, because I learned to use those first." Johanna smiles, but there's a touch of bitterness there, too. She didn't learn how to shoot until after her time imprisoned in the Capitol. And by then, the electric shocks had made detail work hard, her hands shaking almost every time she tried to load or fire the gun.
no subject
He says, eyebrows ticking up.
"I've never thrown an axe, and I want something I don't have to worry about reloading."
And he believes, sort of inherently, that she must be an expert.
no subject
Johanna twirls the axe, letting it pick up momentum, before she throws it, hard. It makes an actual, honest-to-god whooshing sound before lodging itself in the pole. Johanna fetches the axe, grinning back at Bob.
"That's after years of practice. You know how to hold one, at least?"
no subject
"I think so. But everyone thinks so, don't they?"
Reaching for the axe handle.
no subject
Johanna hands Bob the axe, then watches as he gets used to the weight, the feel of the thing. After a very careful assessment, Johanna comments, "You hold it like a nine-year old girl." Johanna grabs Bob's hands and pulls them apart, just a bit, to where they should fall on the axe, completely disregarding personal space or anything civilized like that.
no subject
"Do you think of these as a tool or as a weapon?"
no subject
His question is an interesting one, and she actually has to think before answering it. "Tool, I guess. Weapons are tools for murder. It all depends on how much you care, and me? I try not to care too much." She's usually only ever mildly successful.
"Alright, now stand like this." She demonstrates. "And swing that motherfucker, hard as you can. Try not to fall over."
no subject
He has to check- that isn't the kind of thing you just say 'what the hell' about and wing it, after all.
no subject
Johanna steps back a bit, curious to see how this will turn out.
no subject
He's never done this before. He is, however, a bear of a man, about five times stronger than he looks, and consequentially makes up for his technique by hitting like a freight train.