[open] funny how fast things change

[5055034455]

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.]

Comments

[5055034455]

You think I'll miss at point-blank range?

[Because you are right there, Yosuke, and Saul is super curious to see what this would do to a human.

...but no, he's only joking. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.]

I don't suppose you know how to use something like this, do you?

[inthejunk]

Uuuh. Those are illegal where I'm from.

[Which isn't technically a no. Except that he's not a gun guy. He mostly just knows what he's seen on TV or heard in songs when it comes to guns.

Either way, he does his best to help out here. In spite of the continued threat of being made into a target. He's starting to notice a pattern with Saul's threats, after all. What's this, the third one already? And so far, nothing's cone of it.]

Maybe you should mark the difference between where you aim and where you hit. Then you can adjust for it.

[5055034455]

[Saul laughs. Illegal. Okay.

He listens to Yosuke's suggestion, then stares at the gun. It can't possibly be that easy. He knows he's not holding it correctly, because it feels weird. Maybe if he just...

He shifts around a bit, adjusting his feet, his shoulders, the angle at which he's standing, how he's holding the weapon.

It's a little better, but something still feels weird. He looks over at Yosuke again.]

What do you use?

[inthejunk]

Ah. The cops are allowed guns, so it's not a problem.

[Cause it's easier to 'misunderstand' that question, frankly. He puts on his best innocent face.]

[5055034455]

Ha, ha.

[Look at that deadpan.]

I mean you specifically, smartass.

[inthejunk]

...Mine is less illegal.

[But maybe not exactly sanctioned, either. Still, an adult asked him something direct. He feels compelled to answer.

Casually, he flicks a wrist and slides a bit of steel from where it's hidden up his sleeve. A kunai.]

Just a little knife, sort of.

[Two, technically. And them there's Jiraiya. But even his sparring partners don't know about Jiraiya at the moment. No one does, he hasn't told a soul. And this funny, cranky, frazzled lawyer man isn't the guy he's coughing that juicy fish up to first.]

[5055034455]

[That is, technically, a concealed weapon. Saul would argue its legality, but he's too busy trying to recover from the way he just jumped.

He was not expecting that.

That's probably the point, though, huh?

After a moment, he wrinkles his nose in distaste.]

Sort of?