milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Ramon's in the bar early, despite wishing he was still upstairs. But, things to do, and there are reasons why it's not a good idea to have weapons in his room right now. Something to do with the company.

Anyway, he's cleaning three pistols, a rifle and his sword. Bit tricky when one arm is virtually out of action but hey, he's got time and nothing else to do right now. Distractions would be welcome though.

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'No such thing as fate, kid, only what you make for yourself. If you don't want to die a bloody death or inflict one on someone else, you don't have to.'

Ramon does not believe in being made to do anything against one's will. Or - well, he doesn't get forced to, preferring to be the forcer. And certainly not in such a thing as predestiny.

'You can always change things. You just have to want to and be prepared to do whatever you can to make it happen.'

"But who's to say that if I do that, if I change something, that's what my fate was to begin with?" He challenges.

'But you haven't changed it yet,' he points out. 'So it stands to reason that whatever you're dreaming about now is what'll happen from where you are now, right? And you said you were planning on taking your throne back - that would suggest there'll be fighting and therefore, blood.'

He shrugs a little.

'Go and be a goatherder or something, and you probably won't see much blood.'

He knows the boy won't. Doesn't blame him. He wouldn't.

He snorts at that.

"Pendragons are not shepherds. We're warriors."

'Warriors eh?' Ramon shakes his head a little. 'You and your sit around and dream of noble deaths or something? Your blood for your country and all that bullshit?'

"We don't sit around. Much." He mutters. "Only when we're having our lessons. My Father, my grandfather and his father before him were all great warriors. It's in our blood."

'And because of that, your blood'll probably end up staining the grass of some battle field somewhere.'

Ramon waves it off. 'Your funeral, kid. If that's what you want then I'm not going to try and talk you out of it. Sounds like you're going to have a blast.'

If he was in Melou's shoes, he'd do the exact same thing as the boy's doing. He just likes playing devil's advocate.

"I'm not a coward. I'm not going to avoid a fight because I might get hurt, or I might get killed. If we end up in a war, then so be it."

He sighs. "I don't suppose you'd get me a drink, would you? The bar won't give me one on my own."

The corners of his mouth turn up slightly, but whether in approval at the statement or at the request for a drink is ambiguous.

'Sure. What do you like?'

He waves a rat over.

'You want any fun things to go with that, let me know.'

"No, just the drink. Whatever we had last time. I liked that. Maybe it'll help me sleep."

'Well I can definitely give you something that'll make you sleep. Even something legal if you like - pretty sure Bar'll help you out with that.'

For the time being he just orders a bottle of scotch with two glasses and then starts idly putting a pistol back together as the rat runs off.

Melou pours himself a glass, and then one for Ramom, all the while watching the pistol.

"What sort of weapon is that?"

'It's a gun.'

He fits it back together a little awkwardly, due to limited mobility with his right arm, then checks that the firing pin is in good working order. He doesn't load it though, just reverses it and offers it to Melou, handle first.

'Want to see? I guess handguns aren't in use much in your time. You even have cannons yet?'

"Cannons? We have catapults." He takes the gun and looks it over. He's never seen anything like it, of course.

'Mmm no, not the same thing. Cannons use gunpowder and fire.'

He pulls one bullet out and sets it on the table.

'Guns fire these at high speeds. Can easily kill with one shot. It was one of those through my shoulder that hurt me a few days ago.'

"Our year is 519, if that help any."

Melou looks impressed. He picks up the bullet and turns it over in his hand. "Wow. Must hurt."

'Yeah. Well, I was lucky, it went right through. It hurts worse if it breaks a bone on the way through or gets stuck inside. That's the most painful thing.'

He toys with a thought for a moment, then shrugs.

'Want to shoot it?'

"Arrow heads are the same. They get stuck in you, it's bad news." He's parroting what he's ben told.

Then he grins. "Sure!"

Ramon nods with a small smile and stands up, sticking the other two guns into his waistband, resheathing the sword and slinging the rifle over his good shoulder. Because he's not leaving any of them around the bar.

'Come on then, we'll have to do it outside. But you have to do what I tell you with it because I don't want your mother bending my ear if you shoot yourself in the foot, alright?'

He nods at the gun the boy's still holding. 'Bring it with you and don't drop it.'

"Yes, sir." Melou stands and follows Ramon outside. First time he's been out there, too.

He finds it more than weird that he's quite enjoying hanging out with a boy but doesn't dwell on it. Every kid should learn to shoot, he thinks.

A target is procured from Bar and he heads outside to a clear area on the edge of the woods and sticks it to a tree. Then he takes the gun off the boy and shows him how to take the magazine out, load it and slide it back in. The safety catch goes on.

'If you're carrying a gun, don't walk around without that on or you'll blow your balls off.'

Sage advice. He shows Melou how to cock it and points out the trigger. Then he resets it to safe and hands it over.

'Go for it. Cock it and line up the target - you've shot a bow before? Same sort of thing. Try and hit the target in the head or chest and mind the kickback or you'll land on your ass.'

Melou watches and listens carefully. Despite his less than serious nature, he knows when to pay attention.

He cocks the gun easily enough and then lines up the target. He misses and stumbles back a few steps upon firing.

"It's a bit different than a bow." He's smiling, though.

'Yeah it would be.'

Ramon's watching the pistol, in case the boy accidently waves it around.

'Make sure it's always pointing down and away from you, and everyone else. And keep the safety on between shots, at least until you know what you're doing.'

He nods at the target. 'Keep going. I've got enough ammo.'

Melou nods back and takes a few more shots, missing mostly, but getting steadier with each one.

It might be obvious that he's enjoying this. He will be, in a few years, quite an accomplished killer.

'You're not bad,' Ramon observes when the magazine is empty. 'I suppose you get to shoot arrows a lot at home.'

He hands over another eight bullets.

'Were you paying attention when I loaded it? Give it a go.'