milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Today, Belle feels like shooting stuff. It only happens once in a blue moon, and usually when it does, she simply takes a job.

But the job she has lined up specified that no guns were to be used. Beside, she feels like taking more than one shot.

So, there's a assassin lounging in a tree, taking potshots at birds as they fly by. Each bullet kills, but it's a challenge every time, simply because she's not as good with a rifle as a knife. Don't even bother giving her a pistol, either.

However, if you're wondering what the noise is, she'll be happy to talk.

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Enter one of the best Riflemen of the British army of his time, stopping at a safe distance to watch her with casual curiosity. And just a little assessment of her skill.

Not the best, by any means. The shots aren't all through the heads. But every time she fires (It can be up to ten minutes between shots), a bird dies.

She notices him, but doesn't stop. "'Lo!"

Good enough aim, then, but her reloading speed could be a lot better. He might offer lessons, if she seems interested as they talk.

"Morning", he says with a smile.

The gun is locked and hung carefully by its strap on the branch. She's young, and wearing a deceptively cute outfit for the activity she was busying herself with.

"How're y' doin'?" She slipped off the branch, landing lightly on her feet, pulling the gun down and setting it against the tree.

He notes her care with the gun approvingly. And yes, she's young, and the outfit is incongruous, but he's seen stranger.

"Could be worse. Yourself?"

"Good! Been a while since I practiced wit' de rifle. . .but di'n' do bad, all t'in's considered. I'm Belladonna, by de way."

She holds out a strong, calloused hand, smiling amiably.

"Richard Sharpe." He shakes her hand. "You get much call to use it at home?"

She shrugs. "Prefer mo' intimate methods, but sometimes."

It's time to change the subject! "You shoot?"

Canon has his first wife killing French soldiers by pretending to seduce them then stabbing them to death. He doesn't even blink at this girl being a killer.

"Have done", he says with a shrug. "Mostly for hunting, these days."

"Oui. I hunt t' stay sharp. 'S actually kinda fun."

He'd probably take exception to why she kills, though. "What kinda gun y' use?"

You never know.

"Baker rifle", he tells her. "Might be from before your time."

"Mebe. Knives're more my style. When 'n' where y' from?"

It's best not to risk it, though.

"1817", he answers easily. "Living in France, but I fought for England."

"Oh Jesus, yeah, y' befo' my time by over a century. 1989, New Orleans. 'S in de southern part o' America."

The use of past tense is duly noted.

"Never been to America, or not in my own time, but I've fought with Americans."

His tone says he mostly liked them. He never will go to the America of his time, though he'll make it to Chile at some point in the future.

"'S a lot different from England. Not dat I dislike England, o' France f'r dat matter. But different."

She's smiling. . .New Orleans is her first love. "Y' not," she searches for a delicate word, but comes up empty, "dead, are y'?"

"...me? No. Just retired. Got friends here who are, though."

"Oui, my priest is, but I di'n' want t' recomend y' visit New Orleans if y' couldn't."

That would be mean.

"Oh." He grins. "Well, even the dead can usually leave here, y'know. Just not to their own worlds."

"I know. But it's not a good idea f'r me t' have visitors at de moment, 'n' de only other Cajun I know's mon amour, 'n' he's livin' in France."

The smile's back. Her recent visit with Remy's still fresh in her mind.

"Good thing I'm not dead, then", he says, noting her smile and grinning to himself. "If I get the chance, I'll go."

"Y' should. 'S de best place on Eart', 'n' I've traveled 'nough t' know."

And is totally unbiased, of course.

"Nothing to do with it being your home, of course", he observes, amused.

She laughs and nods. "'Course not! What gave y' dat idea?"

"Can't imagine", he says with a chuckle. "Must be nice to feel like that about a place."