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Shooting Range, Friday Late Morning

Hannibal still had some clothes left in the form of an old pair of jeans and a worn long sleeved shirt but he would have worn his pajamas so he wouldn't miss this meeting. He'd gotten down to the shooting range early to get his gun out the weapons locker so he could both clean and load it.

He shot off a few rounds of his own, getting used to the feeling of it again before stopping and reloading. It'd been awhile since he'd practiced. His own fault, really.

After that, he sat down again and waited for Arthur to show up.

[Hannibal's here for that prince dude but the range is totally open!]

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If Arthur seemed in any way subdued when he came in, it was born of a natural wariness for this place. For the most part, he hid it well, in quick stolen glances at the rafters and the range itself, which both resembled and denied resemblance to the manner of target practice he was accustomed to.

"Hannibal," he said, "I see you're active and alert."

At least he had the advantage of attitude and proper clothes to see him through this ordeal.

"It's good to see you too, Arthur," Hannibal said and blew him a kiss. Yep, really. "And in all your clothing!"

"Some of us know how to wash properly," he said.

All right, it was Merlin who did the wash, but that was hardly his problem unless he managed to muck it up. "I'm told your 'modern appliances' have risen up to destroy you."

"Yeah, they're being finicky," he said and made a face. "I'm down to what I'm wearing and my pajamas. And my skin but it's a little too cold out for that. This island's fun, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Arthur, in a tone that implied anything but, "It's been an absolutely smashing good time so far."

"Yeah, you sound thrilled," Hannibal laughed, getting to his feet to retrieve a pair of ear protectors for Arthur.

Safety first.

"Bad first few weeks?"

"In a manner of speaking," he muttered, taking what was offered. And... staring. "Is this some sort of helmet?"

It looked a little flimsy 'round the top.

"Not a helmet," he said and shook his head. "It protects your ears from the sound. They're required in this place. And it's a loud sound."

His own were around his neck.

"And this," he said, holding his gun in the palm of his hand, "is a Smith and Wesson 9mm semi automatic. Used to be my dad's."

"I was about to mention it looks ridiculous," he muttered, hanging them 'round his neck. Not that he was mirroring Hannibal. But the ear protectors lost their interest almost instantly. "Are you joking?" he asked, half-ridiculing, half-amazed, "You can't even fit an arrow in that thing."

"Oh, Arthur," Hannibal said, shaking his head oh so sadly. "You have so much to learn about modern weaponry. An arrow doesn't need to go in there. It uses bullets. Put on the ear protectors and step back. I'll show you."

"You said it used a controlled explosion," Arthur mused, slipping the ear protectors over his ears. He proceeded to fidget with them, since they were odd things and didn't quite fit as he'd expected it.

"Watch and learn," Hannibal said, sliding his own ear protectors and taking up the stance in front of the target. He lifted the gun, sighted it and then clipped off three shots in quick succession before lowering the gun again.

"Holy mother of God," Arthur said, openly gaping at it (and at Hannibal, for causing it) in both disbelief and excitement.

How in the bloody blazes did that sort of hell fit in there?

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," he said, taking down the ear protectors and pointing the gun down at the floor. "It's how a gun works. I looked it up so I could tell you. The firing is achieved through gases produced through rapid, confined burning or a propellant."

Hannibal didn't know what that meant really but he had looked it up to be able to explain it.

"The propellant is usually some sort of gunpowder."

"Right," Arthur said. He'd heard of something like it before. He could picture it, at least: picture it enough to convince himself there was a good chance it wasn't wrought of magic. But that wasn't the most important matter.

Indeed, he'd most likely never use a weapon such as this at home, and it'd be a fools' errand to get used to it. But it was, well.

It was shiny.

"I'll try that!"

Not that he sounded eager or anything.

Edited 2009-01-16 14:42 (UTC)

"Man, you look like a kid in a candy shop," Hannibal said, laughing. "It's got four rounds left. If you wanna think of it like a bow and arrow, then it needs to be sighted. After that, pull the trigger when you're ready. Keep a hold on the butt of the gun though. There's kickback."

With that, he offered the gun to Arthur.

"I prefer the crossbow," he returned, impatiently, and wrestled his arm out of his sling before he took the gun. Arthur slipped into something that as closely resembled Hannibal's earlier movements as he could.

Curious towards modern appliance he might not have been, but Arthur had always been a quick study of the art of war.

He tilted it enough so that he could unravel the lever's location. It was as small as the rest of it. At last, he pointed it.

And pulled.

The shot went rather wide of the target, and his shoulder jammed back painfully from the kickback despite his bracing. It held far more power than he'd realised. "Crap."

It was a 'crap' full of awe.

"Cool, ain't it?" Hannibal said, grinning from behind Arthur. "Powerful too. Deadly like just about any other weapon. The bullets are small but they're strong and incredibly damaging if you get hit with one."

"This has got to be," Arthur said, as he reached up to massage his hurting shoulder, "An absolute marvel during a hunt. Or in battle." It took far less time than a crossbow, and some section of his mind was already attempting to sort out what kind of an impact it would have at war.

This, he could understand.

"Oh yeah, it's used by hunters, in wars, by our law enforcement officials for self defense," Hannibal ticked off. "And this is just one type. We've got pistols, shotguns, rifles, revolvers, machine guns...just to name a few. Some of them are basic, kinda like this one, and some are really technologically advanced with more bells and whistles than some cars."

Cars?

He decided clarification on that wasn't necessary. Apparently, cars were things with a great deal of bells and whistles on them. All right, then. "Different types, adjusted to different uses," Arthur nodded. "So, let me pretend to be interested: what're you using this one for, then?"

He was slipping back into that stance again. He'd bust his shoulder good if he did too much of this, but once or twice couldn't hurt.

"Well, this one was a hand me down so I don't really use it all that much unless I'm shooting targets or I need it to defend myself," he explained. "And here, after some of the things I've heard, it might come in handy even more for defensive purposes."

"I've heard the island deals with threat quite often," Arthur said. His eyes narrowed at the target, he adjusted somewhat more.

Halfway into his aiming, he had to break it off to massage his shoulder again with a sigh and a twitch of his expression before he resumed aiming.

"Invasions a plenty," he said, glancing at Arthur's shoulder for a minute. "Sometimes serious, sometimes...not so serious. I haven't seen anything really serious yet but I've heard."

Then, dryly, he added, "I'm sure you'll excel when the island gets invaded with something you can hit."

"Trust me," he muttered, not at all bitchily, really, "I excel at hitting anything."

And fired another bullet, which buried itself some few feet away from the actual center of the target. But he'd nicked the paper, which was as much as Arthur could hope for.

This time, he'd caught the kickback enough that it merely put tension on him instead of ripping straight through his arm. The lines of a pleased smirk embedded themselves in his expresssion. "Look at that!"

"Quick study," Hannibal said, nodding. "Does it feel unnatural at all? Or just smaller than what you're used to?"

"Smaller," he concluded, twisting it 'round in his hands. He knew enough about projectile weapons not to point the point of exit anywhere vital. "More powerful. Less of a fuss."

"Accurate assessment," Hannibal said, nodding. "If you hit shoot someone, chances are, they're going down or, at least, they're going to hate you in the morning. And, if you're out of bullets, you can always just beat the hell out of someone with the butt of the gun. That's called pistol whipping."

"That's always useful," Arthur said, with clear approval. "You can never have enough bludgeoning tools..." He was a practical man. If there was a broom available, he'd use the bloody broomstick.

He brushed his thumb along the line of the gun. Steel, like a sword, but thicker. Different.

"How good are you with tech?" Hannibal asked, getting an idea. Maybe he was just feeling nice. "I mean, how fast do you learn?"

"I don't want a thing to do with any of this ridiculous 'Tee Vee' nonsense," he said, "Or these 'washers' and 'dryers'. But I'd be remiss if I didn't investigate these weapons further; I've never had any trouble."

That was Arthur's idea of an answer to that. As if his ability to learn fast should even be questioned.

Never mind that he was rather crap at anything outside his realm of interest.

"If you think you can manage not to break my gun, you can take it apart if you want," Hannibal decided. "See how it works. But if you break it, you get me a new one."

At last, that was enough to break some of Arthur's arrogance down. He granted Hannibal a long, considering look.

"You'd loan me your weapon?"

Not that he was exactly a technological genius, but he kept his crossbow going all right. He wouldn't even break it open, but merely get a feel for it.

And how it could be stopped.

"You know what you're doing," Hannibal explained, "and you value weapons for what they are. I'd feel comfortable loaning it to you. You could come down, shoot off a few rounds when you want. Get yourself some practice."

He pursed his lips, then turned his head to look straight back at the target. He nodded.

"This'll be fun," Arthur said in utter deadpan, a few seconds later.

"I thought you'd like it," Hannibal said, pleased. "If anyone would, you would. If you need any ammo, I keep extra clips in the weapons locker."

"Right..." Clips would be the 'gun's version of bolts, then. He frowned thoughtfully, then took aim again, emptying the gun of the last two bullets.

The stance started to feel just a bit more unnatural, and his preliminary awe was starting to wane in favour of determination. Still, only one bullet skimmed the very edges of the target, and that wouldn't do in the long run. The third time, the weapon simply clicked. Empty, then.

He couldn't foresake his other training for it however, and he was rather acutely aware of the need to pick up his sword drills with more regularity. "Thank you," he said, offering him the weapon in return.

He did know how to say it. "Even if it's shaped like a sodding twig." And then there was that.

"Sometimes the best things come in small packages," he said, taking the gun and sliding the clip out. "This...is one of them. And they're not all small. You do some research, you will find some big freaking guns out there. You're welcome though, glad you liked it.

Arthur chuckled once, and shook his head. "Just make sure it doesn't go to your head," he said, "You've got enough boast in there to field a bull just by talking at it." Whether that was hypocritical was irrelevant, because clearly, Arthur could back all of his up.

"And you're not arrogant at all," Hannibal said with a smirk. "Riiiight."

"I'm not arrogant, I'm the prince," Arthur said, pointedly, as he slipped off the ear protectors. "Bear that in mind." He presented them back to Hannibal. "If you need any help sorting out the sword or the staff, you know where to find me. God knows you don't need more lumps on your head."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, hanging up both his and Arthur's ear protectors. "And might take you up on that. Can't ever know too many ways to beat someone's ass."

"We'll see if there's anything worth training about you," he said, idly considering the range again.

Perhaps he could bring his crossbow here, once his arm was healed. Or before, if he felt up for it.

"Anything to spend time with you," Hannibal said airily, fluttering his eyelashes and swooning dramatically. "Or, you know, thanks for the offer. Really."

"Hm," Arthur said, "Learn to watch it," as he ~~flounced~~ stalked towards the exit.

"See you later, Arthur!" Hannibal said, waving as Arthur left.

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Shooting Range, Friday Late Morning

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