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*There's the sound of gunshots coming from out back - but don't worry, it's just the ballerina.

- okay, maybe that's cause for a little worry. But she's doing quite well at hitting the log that's her target. You might even say she's improving. After all, she's not going to get a chance to practice anything other than dance for a while, so she's getting her shots in while she can.*

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The sounds of gunfire draw the razorgirl out the back door. She stands off to the side, watching the target practice in silence, not wanting to distract the shooter.

*Meg curses, rather explicitly, as her bullet goes wide and hits a nearby tree instead of the intended target.

Fortunately it's in French, and so mostly incomprehensible.

Then she sees the girl standing nearby, and offers a rather sheepish grin.*

"Don't hold your breath when you fire. Squeeze on the exhale," she offers.

To demonstrate, she pulls one of her guns, sights down the barrel, and drops a round into the log, despite being a good 25 feet further back than Meg.

*Meg sighs, rather ruefully.*

Nerves, I guess. I mean, you'd think I'd be used to this thing by now -

She walks over to Meg, the sun reflecting off the mirror coating of her ocular implants.

"You never fully get used to it. You can know your gun better than you know your lover, and still hesitate on the trigger. What you have to learn is not how to lose the jittery nerves, but how to control them."

*Meg squints and looks away from the glimmering eyes as light reflects painfully into her pupils.*

Well, that sounds like good advice - harder in practice, of course. *She grins, a little ruefully.*

"Most things are. I'll tell you a little secret. I do this for a living, and I still have to work at getting my heart rate down and my breathing under control when I suddenly come under fire. Don't be afraid of those feelings. Learn how to use them."

Most people would say that the term 'street samurai' is a misnomer -- that it is simply a dressed up term for bodyguard or goon. Molly, on the other hand, has always taken the name seriously.

Well, I'll never do this for a living, *Meg admits,* but it's still a good thing to know, I figure -

Not that I've been under fire often. But for what I do do, I tend to run off the nervous energy, so it's kind of weird to not use it.

She grins. "When the nervous energy gets to the point where it overshadows the concentration needed for a gun, that's when I usually go to this."

Molly reaches down her back and pulls out the Scorpion. She flicks her wrist and the monofilament blade pops out of the holder and extends to full length.

Oh, I've been training with a sword, too, *Meg says earnestly.* I'm better with it than with the gun, it's just generally, you know, I hope not to be that close to whatever it is I have to fight with -

"I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes it's unavoidable, though."

She flicks her wrist again and the blade disappears as she resecrets it about her person.

"So tell me, what's all the training for?"

Just in case, *Meg says, with a grin, watching the blade retract with interest.*

I've been trying to get at least decent with a weapon for a while - it's a good thing to know around here, really. And I'm going to be sort of forced out of practice for the next while, so I'm getting it in while I can -

Molly regards the bar with a renewed interest. "This place gets so violent that pretty young girls need to pack heat?"

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balletrat - 2005-08-22 20:58 (UTC) - Expand

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balletrat - 2005-08-22 21:19 (UTC) - Expand

Xander meanders outside, still looking to be in a very good mood.

He blinks at Meg.

"Are you a gunslinger now, too? Is this the new fad on the block?"

Oh - no, *Meg says, glancing over with a grin.*

I'm hardly good enough to actually even hit the target. Just, you know, when you hang around folks with guns, it tends to be better to know how to use one than not know -

"What, in case you tick them off?" He's still grinning. "Fair enough. Just don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes, okay?"

Or in case they tick off other people with guns who decide to judge you by your friends.

*Meg giggles.*

Since when are you Sergeant Man, anyways?

"Good point," Xander agrees. He gets that whole "friend of the Slayer" deal all the time, after all. It's even worse being the friend of THREE Slayers. "Didn't I ever tell you about that time I thought I was a soldier?"

- no, I don't think you did, *Meg says, eyeing him with amusement.* Let me guess - age six and someone bought you a toy rifle for your birthday?

He snorts.

"Try: Magic spell and we all turned into our Halloween costumes."

Oh, we did that here, too, *Meg says, pleased.* I was a giant rat in a tutu for three days.

Blink. Blink blink.

"Okay, how did that one happen?"

Halloween at Milliways, *Meg explains cheerfully.* Bar playing tricks on us all. I was a rat - lessee if I remember - John Crichton was some kind of felt hoppy frog, Andrew turned into a little old man -