fandomhighdorms | Gun Range, 8am, Wednesday

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Gun Range, 8am, Wednesday

As soon as the doors were open, Parker was in the Gun Range, setting things up for her lesson on guns with Jack. She made sure the poster on the wall was in plain sight:

SAFETY RULES:

· TREAT ALL GUNS AS IF THEY WERE LOADED

· KEEP YOUR FINGER OFF THE TRIGGER UNTIL READY TO FIRE

· BE SURE OF YOUR TARGET AND WHAT’S BEYOND

· ALWAYS WEAR HEARING AND EYE PROTECTION

· NEVER USE ALCOHOL OR DRUGS BEFORE OR WHILE SHOOTING.

· CHECK IN ALL WEAPONS BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE RANGE.

Then started checking out the weapons cabinet.

[ooc: here for

time_agent, but open for all your gun range needs]

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Okay, so this was the gun range. Another place Jack had never been. He stopped to read the poster, before walking over to stand next to Parker.

"Good morning, Parker," he said and, greatly daring, put an arm around her shoulders and grinned at her. "You look gorgeous today."

Parker gave him a look, and bumped her hip against his, sliding out from under his arm. "When do I not?" She grinned at him though, and cocked her head. "Ready for the wonderful world of firearms?"

"Good point." He flashed her a disappointed look, but it didn't last, his grin rapidly reaserting itself. "And when am I not ready for anything?" he asked, holding out his hands. "Just tell me what to do."

"You read the rules? You understand the rules? You understand that I will be hurting you severely, if you break the rules?" Parker checked. "If yes, these are your glasses and ear muffs. The ones you *have* to wear in here. Adjust or exchange for ones that fit, until you're happy."

"Yes, yes, and a world of yes," Jack replied, for once absolutely serious. "Thanks." The ear muffs fit perfectly, but he changed the glasses for a different pair, and then another, until he found some that fit comfortably. "Right. What now?"

"This is a 9mm. It is not loaded. You check this chamber--" Parker demonstrated, "--and the slide," she pulled it back, "to make sure this is the case, every single time. Because the last thing you want is to even put it *away*, thinking it's not loaded. People get careless, and accidents, bumps, drops, collisions, happen. The best way to prevent that kind of problem, is to *know* it isn't loaded. Go ahead, check."

She paused. "I might seem a little intense about this, but you can probably understand why."

"Yeah, I get it. If you weren't intense about it, I'd be worried." He accepted the gun, hefting it in his hand to get used to the weight, before mimicking her actions, checking the chamber and pulling back the slide. "It's not loaded, but I'm going to treat it like it is." And he handed it back to her.

"Goooood Jack." Parker grinned at him, relaxing a little. "Thank you for that. Let's go over to the booth."

She ushered them over to one alley, and brought out the ammo, showing Jack how to load the 9mm. "Cartridge, click, and slide. Now. You need to worry about three things: stance, grip, and sights."

"Relax, Parker. If there's one thing I don't do, it's assume something's not dangerous." He watched her intently. "Okay, cartridge, click, slide. That looks fairly simple. Tell me how to stand, how to hold, and how to look."

"The stance is the same one that Sam will probably be teaching you for hand-to-hand-- one foot in front of the other, to balance you, knees slightly bent. Feet turned out just a little. There's a recoil here, obviously. The stance is supposed to minimize the backlash." She demonstrated herself, placing her feet in what she always thought of as fourth position.

"Okay." Jack copied her, setting his feet shoulder width apart, left foot forward, right foot back, bouncing slightly to settle himself. "This is pretty much what Sam showed me." He nodded. "What's next."

"The grip. Hold it as hard as you can, as high as you can. The better your grip, the better your shot. Your hands will get more tired, and the vibrations will build up. But you'll get used to it. Pull the web between your thumb and forefinger of your hand as far up the grip as you can, until it's under the trigger release." She turned her hand over to show him. "Make sense? Now, use one hand to support the other. Again: minimizes recoil, minimizes the shock, improves your aim."

"Please note my complete lack of innuendo, despite ample opportunity," he said, shaping his hands to copy hers. "Makes sense. The better the grip, the better the control. And I do have very strong hands," he added, almost automatically, focussing on the way Parker was holding the gun.

Parker snickered, jolted out of her gun zone into the usual Jack Zone. "Ahem. I'm not going to say anything about size not mattering-- but I will say that aim matters more," she said, mouth only twitching a little. "The best way to practice? Dry-firing." She rolled her eyes. "Okay, *not* dirty. Just fact. It'll get your muscles used to the... damnit." She cracked up, turned away, then turned back. "Ahem. Pull. And you can tell why some guys think of this as a penis substitute, but for the love of God, don't emulate them."

Parker's snicker actually startled Jack, and it took him a minute to realise what had set her off. "Sorry, Parker. Force of habit," he said, snickering like mad. "And aren't substitutes supposed to be superior," he asked innocently. "Now, if you could get your mind out of the gutter?"

"Ahem. Only if ... okay, not goin' there with you. Let's just say sometimes Nature wins. Moving on."

She adjusted the gun in her grip, mostly sober again. "Right. Last, but not least? Sights. Front sight, on the tip of the barrel; back sight, right above the hammer. Line them up with the target. You won't be able to focus on all three things at once for more than a millisecond. After that, concentrate on keeping your front sight on the target. You probably will already have it in line with the back. Mostly, it takes practice."

"Nature is always better," he said absently, still watching her hands. "Okay, a straight line between back sight, front sight, and target, then concentrate on the front sight. I can do that. Well, I can try and do that." He looked up at her face. "Can I try and do that?"

"You can try." Parker handed him the gun, then stepped back out of his way. "Stance, grip, sights."

"We don't have these where I come from," he said as he accepted the gun, shaping his hands into the grip Parker had shown him, both thumbs pointing forward.

Facing the target at the end of the range, he adjusted his feet, rolling his shoulders to get them comfortable, and lifted the gun, arms extended, lining up the sights with the target. "I see what you mean, you can't focus for very long on all three."

"Nope. Human eyes just don't work like that. Relax your shoulders forward a little, so they can move back with the recoil. You'll get less tired that way." Parker folded her arms, watching carefully.

He complied, taking a deep breath and relaxing, letting his shoulders slip forward slightly. "Glad I've got good eyesight. It'll make this easier." He glanced at her, gun never shifting from its position pointing down range. "Better?"

"Yup. Fire when ready."

Jack lined up the sights with the target's centre, took a deep breath, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger, jerking slightly at the recoil. "Okay," he said, lowering the gun to point at the ground. "That was interesting. Did I hit anything?"

"The back wall?" Parker smiled, but not at Jack's expense. "You actually weren't far off. A little more to the left; each gun has its own pull. Adjust the sights, and try again."

"It's a start," he said, grinning at her. He repeated his movements, adjusting his aim to the left, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger, absorbing most of the recoil now that he knew what to expect.

"How about that time?"

"Better. You hit the target, about the left-hand center rings. Nicely done." She grinned back at him. "I think you're going to be good at this."

"I hope so," he replied, flashing her a quick smile "Can I go again?"

"Use up the cartridges, then tell me how your hands feel."

Jack nodded and returned his attention to the target, breathing deeply, and lifted the gun, lined up the sights, and squeezed the trigger. And repeated it - breathe, exhale, squeeze - until the gun was empty.

He pointed it at the ground and looked at Parker expectantly, eyebrows raised in question.

Parker hit the return on the target, and it trundled back to them. She removed her goggles, then grinned, and handed him the paper. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

When he shifted the gun to one hand to take the target, he winced, more in surprise than pain. "Okay, yeah, sore hands. But that's not half bad." He pulled his goggles down to hang around his neck. "Can I keep this?"

"Of course. Always keep your first, to have something to compare your progress to." Parker smiled, and said, "We should clean the gun before we put it away, just so you know the proper maintenance, too."

Parker showed him the best way to clean the stock, oil the barrel, and make sure it was in full functioning order, then put it back in the case. "So. What do you think of this?"

"I think," he leaned against the wall, arms folded, face thoughtful, "I think I liked it. Not just for what it can achieve, but for it's own sake." Grinning, he bounded over to her. "It was fun. So, will you take me on? Teach me how to do it as good as you?"

Parker snickered again, then bumped her shoulder against his. "Yes, Jack. I'll teach you to perfect your shooting. Mostly it's just practice, practice, practice." She grinned, and locked the cabinet, then said drolly, "But I know how you feel about that. Anything worth doing...."

"...is worth doing perfectly, several times a night." He snickered, then leaned against her. "Thank you. This is important to me, so thank you."

"You're welcome. I want you safe, I want your friends safe. It's no problem." She leaned back against him, and grinned. "Now. Take me to breakfast. This kind of thing can make you work up an appetite."

Pippi signs in. She retrieves her flintlocks and the Glock Pip gave her for birthday (which she may or may not start calling her "Glip" at some point) from the weapons locker and makes with the shooting.

It may be prudent to note that she's wearing her normal stockings and boots, but instead of a dress other such clothing, she's wearing a Union Jack.

"Thats..patriotic." Sawyer says as he walks past her to retrive a simple 9mm from the cabinet. He hasn't shot a gun in such a long time, it makes his heart jump out of his chest just holding the damn thing.

"Not if you're Swedish." she grins.

Sawyer chuckles, "Ain't Swedish." A small smile at her, "Pippi, right?"

"That is who I am!" she said offering a hand. "And you're... Ssssawyer? We have sex class together don't we?"

"Right. Sawyer. Good memory, the both of us." Tapping his temple with his index finger, face going red with the mention of sex class - that class was awesome.

"Yay us!" she grinned before taking some shots with the glock.

Sawyer took aim and took a shot as well, looking over at where her shot landed . He gave her a smile, "Nice!"

"Thank you." she said, "I've been practicing!"

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Gun Range, 8am, Wednesday

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