milliways_bar | (no subject)

"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.

"We'll get you a set of earplugs."

Silencers throw off aim slightly.

Again she wrinkles her nose just a bit.

"Earplugs." She's out of excuses. "Well, I suppose if you insist."

He tilts his head at her.

"I thought you wanted to learn?"

"I do," she says without hesitation, and her scent concurs.

"But you know how I feel about -- violence. It's just -- it should be a tool of last resort."

He frowns.

"Define 'last resort'."

"Richard, don't be cross with me." She sips her tea, watching him with keen eyes.

"I've a right to my opinions, backed up as they are by my own experiences."

He frowns further.

"I'm not being cross," though there's a hint of it threading into his scent now, "I'm just checking to be sure that your last resort is resorted to before it's too late to do anything. I much prefer an active defence."

In other words, he'd shoot the roaring T-Rex rather than waiting to find out if it planned on actually eating him or not.

"Well, sometimes an active defence can make a situation worse. I'm sure you've seen individuals who think they can resist rather than knowing when to retreat? Last resort means you've exhausted all other options."

And she'd rather not give away a location by shooting at something that just as easily might pass them by. He should know by now just how clever his mate is.

"As long as you still have time to make it a last resort and not a last realization that you've put it off too long."

That's all he's trying to say. Frown.

"You should know, I am never one to forget a tool in a time of need."

(There's a reason the Doctor never saw it coming. Her hand still smarts at that particular memory.)

"Fair enough." He could have said 'if you say so' in much the same tone.

"But you'll learn, then," he clarifies, "since it's better to know and not need than need and not know?"

"I will," she says, leaning out to touch his arm. "And I promise you, if I need the training, it'll get used."

He nods.

"I'd still like to try the paintball idea as well, so you get a feel of what a live firefight is like."

"All right." Her lips twitch into a grin. "And how shall we do this training? I hope there's a lecture before the practicum."

"Practise first," he responds, smiling himself. "Do you even know how to fire this sort of weapon? Besides what you've seen in the movies?" One shoot 'em up and then everyone thinks its easy to be Dirty Harry.

She idly picks up the paint gun, and peers at it.

"Point and shoot, right?"

He sighs.

"What?"

Her scent is threaded through with mischief.

"No."

Just.

No.

She's eyeing the hopper, and the rounds on the table. One hand idly collects a few and starts loading it.

He'll notice she's keeping her finger outside of the trigger guard.

"Sometimes I think you think I'm completely helpless."

"Never completely," he challenges back, watching her push paintballs into the specialized clip.

"It works better if you put the gun down while loading the clip." Just saying.