milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Hullo you."

Have a pretty blonde werewolf to go with your new toys.

"What's all this?"

Hey, that is a pretty blond werewolf.

But Ryan's only interested in River.

"Paintball. Mostly harmless." He allows himself an innocent smile.

"Paint ball? Is it -- some kind of martial art form?"

She slips in beside him, and helps herself to a cup of tea.

"No. It's paint." He tosses something at her. "In a ball."

His scent says he's teasing.

She eyes the small, brightly coloured sphere, turning it between her finger, her nose wrinkling slightly.

"It smells like the lake shore on a still day in the sun."

"Would you rather the paint stained?"

He has not told her the whole story yet. He is amused by this.

"Stains? What are you on about?"

It takes a moment, but she sees the guns.

"Oh no, really?"

He leans an elbow on Bar to put his chin is his hand.

"You'd rather live rounds," he amends his previous statement.

She leans in, mirroring his pose with wicked grin.

"Oh no, I could never shoot at you with live rounds, love. I mean, what ever would I do if I hit you?"

"Be in very deep trouble," he answers immediately. "I'd have to shoot you back, at least."

He thinks for a moment.

"I'd probably play dead. To lure you in."

She grins, laughing, rolling her eyes at him.

"I'd probably fall for it. So long as you made sure your aim was true."

...

Suddenly this conversation isn't amusing as it was.

"It's not my aim we have to worry about," he says more seriously.

She cocks an eyebrow at him, her look growing sharper. She can scent the difference in meaning.

"So you'll teach me how to be a marksman then?"

"The best shots are the ones that do the most damage," he points out. "It ends the threat quickly and conserves ammo. It's not shooting that's important, it's shooting well".

She purses her lips at him.

"Which is why you don't shoot things you don't want to see destroyed."

He gives her a softer version of his 'don't be a moron' look, but only because she's River.

"No, then you just shoot them in the knee or other non-vital part."

It has the bonus of making them more willing to talk, too.

River blinks, wincing a bit.

"Do I have to?"

"It depends entirely on the situation." He gives her a small bump.

"If it has to be done, I'll deal with it."

Wouldn't be the first time. This probably doesn't reassure her.

On the contrary, if he thinks it needs to be done, she'd rather he take care of it.

She trusts him.

"Can we focus more on the mechanics and leave the sticky ethical dilemmas for later?"

"Fair enough.

"Range first."

There, that's cut and dry enough, isn't it?

She nods, leaning her shoulder against his for a brief moment, her hands curled around her teacup.

"I'll try not to embarrass you too badly."

"Believe me when I say I'll have seen worse."

Suzi scared the bejeezus out of him the first, and only, time he got her to fire a gun.

"I should hope so. I've fired energy weapons before. Non-lethal ones. These projectiles -- they just seem so -- primitive."

Fifty fourth century sensibilities are so very different than his own sometimes.

"They're what I know," he says dryly, arching an eyebrow at her.

Don't insult his weapons. They're the only weapons he has.

She sits back a little, giving him a gentle smile. "And I've no doubt they're deadly in your hands. They just -- well, frankly... They're loud."

Someone has spent far too many years in a library.