(no subject)

[outstandingbalance]

Who: Natasha Romanoff + you
Where: The shooting range
When: July 1
Rating: PG, probably
Summary: Everyone blows off steam their own way; Natasha's going shooting
The Story:

[All things considered, the past couple of days haven't been so bad. Considering the Gryphon's announcement, she'd been prepared for something worse. Swapping bodies. Seeing memories. Who knows what kind of weird scenarios Wonderland could have put them through.

But that said, she doesn't have to like it either. She tries not to look too hard at people's faces.

On the whole, she tries to stick to her routine. Working out, shooting, getting a drink—in that order.

The firing range is about the most soothing place she's been today, falling into the rhythm of shooting and the satisfaction of hitting her targets. It's the kind of thing that feels familiar and takes enough of her attention to keep her mind from wandering.

That doesn't mean she won't notice anyone else who happens to wander in, give them a smile and a nod. Maybe more.]

Comments

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket doesn't so much walk in as he all but kicks the door down (not physically possible but you'd think it could be with the way the door opens fast and loud), stares down a target, pulls a cylindrical shaped device off his back, hits the catch and allows it to unfurl into a nasty looking rifle.

It powers up and a moment later one of the targets at the very edge of the range no longer has a head, and he looks deeply, deeply emotionally satisfied by that.

Greetings are for other people, apparently.]

[outstandingbalance]

[On the one hand, seems dramatic. On the other hand, who among them hasn't been satisfied by a well placed head shot?

Wryly, her humor clear in her voice:] Feel better?

[beatupgrass]

Not particularly, but it'll do for now. This event's a little too kooky for my tastes, so I figure I better distract myself from the insanity.

[He gives a shrug and then swivels his attention back to her.] You're not gonna poke my forehead or anything, are you?

[outstandingbalance]

[There was a time in Natasha's life when a talking raccoon would have counted as insanity. That time was before aliens attacked New York City.]

Believe me, it's the furthest thing from my mind. Whatever's in your head, it can stay there as far as I'm concerned.

[beatupgrass]

Good, 'cause if you touched me, I'd have had to shoot your hand off. Nothing personal.

[Classic Rocket. And then, just to be mildly personable, he adds:] Name's Rocket.

[outstandingbalance]

[Natasha know better than to try petting animals she doesn't know.

Especially when they're armed.]

Natasha. Nice to meet you. [Watching him sideways, curious about him.] Have you had to shoot off many hands so far?

[beatupgrass]

Here? Not as many as you'd think. People generally know better 'cause Wonderland things or whatever. Back home? ...Eh. Let's just say people have learned that lesson in a variety of ways, and not all of them involve shooting.

[His rap sheet back home, before it got pardoned sure did mention biting.]

[wildwest]

[ the whole thing is ludicrous. he spent half the morning dodging wynonna's attempts at dislodging his disc from it's tray, batting her hand away and at one point even bodily removing her from the room. like hell is he sharing his abilities with anyone, not even her. no good can come of this nonsense, and he soon leaves the sanctity of their shared dwelling to blow off some steam at the shooting range, keeping the brim of his hat pulled down low to obscure the goddamned tray from sight.

he watches natasha shoot for a few minutes before approaching her. ]

I assume this is all you and not someone else on tap in that pretty head of yours.

[outstandingbalance]

[She doesn't wince, but there's something about the fake smile in response to that, the way her brows go up, that say she'd like to. There's just no getting away from it.]

You'd assume right. There's no one here whose skills I'm interested in trying out. [Her smile grows a little more crooked as it becomes more sincere.] And no one I'm interested in sharing mine with.

[wildwest]

Amen to that, [ doc is quick to proclaim, glad that he ran into someone likeminded. he and wynonna had butted heads over this whole shindig. one day, that woman's recklessness was going to get her into hot water he wouldn't be able to pull her out of. ]

Takin' someone else's abilities for a test drive is not only reckless, it's just plain foolish. I ain't puttin' anything that ain't mine inside my head.

[outstandingbalance]

Smart man. [Not just because she agrees, either. She's seen the disks laying around. People finding themselves suddenly super strong or starting fires with their mind doesn't end in anything but a mess. Plus, the whole CD tray situation is kind of gross.]

I tend to think it's a good idea to keep everything in my head right where it is.

Were you going to fire off a few rounds yourself?

[wildwest]

[ it's super gross and kind of freaks him out. a person's face should not contain an actual tray. ]

I couldn't agree more, and I was hopin' to.

[outstandingbalance]

Be my guest. Wouldn't mind seeing a little more of what you can do.

[Her interest is real, but she'd be lying if she claimed there wasn't an element of looking for a distraction at play.]

Not that there's much to show off with here.

[wildwest]

[ the desire for a distraction is mutual, and while he tends to remain pretty humble in spite of the reputation history has allotted him, he's not one to pass on an opportunity to show off a little. ]

Ladies' choice, [ he says, gesturing to the range and plucking a pistol from its holder. ] I'll shoot anythin' of your choosin'.

[suspense_kills_me]

[Red's of the same general attitude. As far as he knows, no one's gotten any of his abilities, which isn't much save for an photographic memory. The things that come in handy when you train in foreign intelligence.

His entrance into the shooting range is a lot less dramatic than say, Rocket's, but he draws his weapon manages to shoot at the target six times, all head shots.]

Good to know that I haven't lost my touch.

[outstandingbalance]

[It might be less dramatic than space rifles and semi-anthropomorphic raccoons, but it does catch Natasha's eye.]

Was there a doubt?

[suspense_kills_me]

Not particularly. I just haven't had that may occasions to use this recently.

[Which is not to say he isn't going to get them in the future.]

[outstandingbalance]

No, it's been a while since there was anything to shoot at. [In general, problems that were as easy as shooting seemed relatively few and far between. One way or another.] You learn that anywhere in particular?

[choosetruth]

[This event is, all things considered, not as bad as it could be. But Georgia's still not happy. It's just ridiculous enough to annoy her that extra bit, especially cause Shaun's having so much damn fun with it. In that special "give George a headache" kind of way.

Shooting isn't exactly soothing to her, but it's routine. There's a lot to be said for routine at a time like this.

She nods to Natasha as she comes in.]

Fuck this place.

[outstandingbalance]

Specifically, or in general?

[Specifically seems likely, but there are plenty of people who are enjoying this and it's plenty of reason for the general sentiment.]

[choosetruth]

[She shrugs as she pulls out her .40 and checks it with precise, practiced motions.]

Both. Not a fan of having a slot in my head.

[outstandingbalance]

[Watches the action idly, not too intent but noting the familiarity with which she handles her weapon.]

Trying not to think to hard about the logistics of that.

[choosetruth]

For the best. I can't believe this is actually normal in some worlds.

[outstandingbalance]

Is it really normal for them? Obviously it happens, but... have to believe some of the stuff that bleeds through here is an outlier even in the words they're from.

[Like having a CD slot in your head.]

[choosetruth]

Sometimes. The event from my world was extremely business as usual.

[Well. For her, at least.]