exsiliumlogs | [open] funny how fast things change

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[open] funny how fast things change

Date & Time: April 18, morning/afternoon
Location: The Hold, the police station
Characters: Saul & you!
Summary: It's not laser tag, but at least he gets to shoot something. Pissed off as Saul may be, he knows he has to go get Jesse's records. First, though, he's going to blow off some steam and finally get acquainted with his weapon.
Warnings: n/a at the moment.

[Early morning finds Saul, surprisingly enough, in the Hold.

He doesn't like this place.

Then again, that can be said about this whole place, not just the Hold.

Anyway, there he is, down in one of the training rooms with his weapon and a box of cartridges that look just like the ones his weapon is meant to use but aren't quite. They're not electrified, these cartridges — he doesn't see the point in firing those at a training dummy. It'd be a waste.

And because someone made the mistake of telling him this thing is supposed to be sentient, he's talking to it.

The dummy he's been firing at has few cartridges sticking out of its torso. The rest? Stuck to the wall behind it.]

Come on, you piece of junk. Be sentient, or whatever. Aim yourself. God damn —

[He aims, fires off another round. This one winds up jammed at an awkward angle in the floor.]

Son of a bitch!

[Here's the thing: he doesn't know how to fire a gun like this. He also started the day off mad — actually, he hasn't stopped being mad since he talked to Lisbeth — and he's just getting madder. Mad enough that he almost flings his weapon across the room, but stops himself before he lets go, so all he really manages to do is tweak a muscle in his arm.]

*

[Luckily, being angry takes a lot of energy, so by the time he finishes off the box of rounds and changes into a suit (a suit that's in dire need of tailoring and a splash or two of color, but beggars can't be choosers) for his field trip to the police station, he's much more subdued.

Still mad, though.

He has no idea what he's going to come up against, once he gets there. What he'll find out, what will change as a consequence of him finding out, yadda yadda, blah blah, shit sucks. And while it's true that he wanted the chance to do his job again, he wasn't really hoping for this.

After pacing on the steps of the station for a solid three minutes full of fidgeting with his briefcase and tie, he passes through the door and assumes as cool an exterior as any, then strides up to the front desk.

And smiles.]

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[He shuffles his feet outward about another inch, then bends his knees just slightly.

Yes.

This feels much better.

A few controlled breaths later, he slides his finger onto the trigger and fires.

BOOM, HEADSHOT~]

...oh my God, did I get his eye? I — wow. I probably shouldn't aim there. That's — ow. No.

Ouch.

[Sympathetic wince for the dummy with a shell it's eye, even if there's laughter in her tone.]

Not bad, though. And you're better off aiming for the body anyway, bigger target. Trust me, even at point blank people will miss a head shot.

[Thank god because otherwise she would be 100% more dead than she is right now.]

There must be...

[He trails off, thinking. Damn it, Jim; he's a lawyer, not a doctor. Why is he trying to figure out the best spot for shooting someone with one of these things? It's non-lethal, sure, but if he ever catches someone in the eye with it — that's bad news, to say the least.

Not that he ever wants to use this thing for real, but.]

You ever use a taser?

[She tilts her head slightly to look at him with that trailed off sentence, curious, but she'll answer his question instead of asking her own.]

This whole thing is kind of a taser. [Gesturing to her suit, since it is, especially if someone tries to get it off her when she hasn't detactivated the security measures.] But if you mean a proper one, then, yeah, I have. Also been tased, it's less fun than you might think.

[Sometimes Bruce can push them a little hard.]

[...her suit is electrified?

So it's probably kind of stupid that Saul wants to touch it now, huh.

Damn, why couldn't he have asked for something like that instead of —

wait no he would look terrible in something like that never mind carry on]

Is there, like, a preferred spot to aim for?

With something like that, I'd go for the torso, but you can aim for the abdomen instead of the chest, just to be safe.

[She's assuming he means "the preferred spot to not accidentally kill someone", since most people choose non-lethal weapons for a reason.]

Using regular tasers you can go for the legs as well, but that's easier when you're in closer range. If we're on missions your first concern should be protecting yourself.

[Regardless of whether that means accidentally killing someene, which... probably isn't advice Bruce would approve of. But screw that.]

[He shakes his head.]

I picked this over a regular taser for a reason.

[Saul has no intention of ever getting close enough to use a regular taser on anyone. No thank you. You know how he's going to protect himself? By staying away.]

So does the secret identity thing still hold in this place, or...?

Smart man.

[Just because she enjoys punching people in the face doesn't mean that everyone does, and she can respect the desire to keep a distance in potentially dangerous situations.

As for secret identities, she shrugs.]

Kinda. It's not as easy here, and a little pointless, but I'd rather not have people knocking on my door if I piss them off as Batgirl.

[Most of the people she's going to the United Earth with are probably going to find out along the trip, and there's an assortment of others that know, but that doesn't mean she's going to wander around without her cowl on. It's generally better to keep the two secret, especially when you're a regular human.]

You might want to consider hiring a lawyer.

[...he says, eyes all a-twinkle.]

What on Earth would I need a lawywer for?

[She doesn't need to be a detective to pick up that he's sort of offering, there.]

You said it yourself: identity protection. Not to toot my own horn, but I specialize in a number of fields. Vigilante justice was never exactly one of them; however, I think I can apply what I know to serve someone like you.

[ :)?? ]

[God help her, she laughs.]

No offence, but I've been doing this since I was fifteen, I think I can keep a handle on my own secret identity.

[Nevermind that half the criminals in Gotham knew who the Spoiler was because they knew she was Arthur Brown's daughter. Batgirl is a fairly well kept secret.]

Why would you even want to be a vigilante's lawyer, anyway?

[That shit could get you killed, Saul.]

If you're so sure...

[In a place like this, he's surprised she's managed to succeed so far. What, are there no people with secret identity-detecting superpowers hanging around? Color him surprised.

Also haha.

Hahaha.

AHAHAHAHA please do not talk to him about shit that could get him killed because that is already pretty much his life.]

A vigilante is a big step up from the people I used to represent back home. Could be fun.

I'm pretty sure.

[She doesn't really have anything against lawyers; Babs took the bar, after all, and helped her sort out all the drama with her dad and their mortgage, but.... still.]

I'm flattered, I think, but that doesn't really inspire confidence.

[Makes her wonder what sort of people he's used to dealing with.]

It should. Few criminal lawyers in New Mexico have come close to my success rate. And I'm not calling you a criminal, of course, but let's be honest — vigilantes work outside of the law just as much as anyone else who had to give me a call.

[...not that there's law to work outside of, here. He straightens a little, shifts the gun over to his left hand, then offers her his right.]

Saul Goodman.

Oh, I know, I've been the subject of a police hunt, once. [Things that should probably not be said with a pleased grin: that.] Maybe I could've used your help then.

[No, not really, that was a disaster all round. But she shakes the offered hand]

Nice to meet you, Mr. Goodman. I'm surprised you don't have any business cards to offer.

[That seems like a lawyer-y thing to do. Or a car salesman-y thing, but they're kind of the same.]

You could've.

[He smiles and shrugs a shoulder.]

I do, actually, but the information on them is now completely wrong. Why? Worried you'll forget me?

[And there he goes.

Steph, you really shouldn't have distracted him from his bad mood.]

[Probably, but Saul is not as handsome as Detective Gage, so she knows whose help she'd have preferred. She'll keep that thought to herself.]

You could get some correction tape and fix 'em up. [She laughs, though, amused.] The guy with the taser gun? I could never forget you.

[Why ever not?]

[Not as handsome as.

C'mon, Steph. Jesse Pinkman isn't the only criminal here with dreamy blue eyes.]

Sounds messy. So if I ever need your help... you got a bat signal rigged up here, or what?

[Not as handsome as a man she nicknamed Detective McHandsome. Pick your battles, Saul.]

Um, that got left at home. [A little awkward, because it's kind of weird to think about people specifically asking for her help. The bat signal is for Bruce, or Dick, or even Tim, but most people don't really want Batgirl. She's just the one who happens to be there at the time and hopefully people don't complain too much about her not being a real Bat.

And she can't use her tablet because Steph does and really, no one's asked for a way to contact Batgirl, yet.

Help.]

[McHandsome? Saul's Irish. A McGill, in fact, so he knows that Mc translates to son of. Maybe all the genes didn't pass. YOU NEVER KNOW.

Anyway.

Saul squints.]

Then how do you know when someone needs you?

I patrol, mostly.

[And she work cases, which sometimes leads her to people who need her help but possibly didn't realize it.

She shrugs, and the gesture makes her cape fall around her body, effectively hiding her and her suit under dark fabric. Being in Exsilium is a little like being Spoiler again, after getting used to the support system she had as Batgirl.]

Hm.

[Saul seems to be thinking about that. On the one hand, he really could use someone like her on his side. On the other hand, he's done with pushing his luck in this place for now.

...well.

Mostly.]

How good are you at what you do?

[She was Robin and she wishes saying that would mean something here.

But still, the question makes her straighten her posture a little.]

You don't get to wear this symbol unless you're one of the best.

[Her pride and self-esteem are complicated things, but the statement is true enough. If she wasn't good enough, if she wasn't doing the best she could, Bruce would have taken Batgirl away from her as soon as he came back to Gotham.]

[It occurs to Saul that she could have just bought the suit from Hot Topic or the internet or something and brought it along here with her, but — no.]

One of the best at age... what, twenty? Give or take?

[That's not a skeptical question, and it doesn't sound like one; he's just curious.]

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