Fair. I walked through, on the first day or so I was here. Was mostly curious if they had any of the post-war painters on display before, you know. [ Before everything went to absolute shit. There's a light sense of mischief, in his mention of the painters, that transmits over the connection. ]
Versatile, then. Lets you work with whichever one you're feeling, at least. [ He can see the appeal, in having so many options that it was just a matter of picking one and running with it for the day. ]
Alright, hold onto your horses. [ It's a teasing admonishment, as he temporarily sets his gun down in its case. From the backpack, he produces a stack of frisbees, garish neon things that look like they're straight from one of those tourist kiosks. Plucking the rifle back up, he steps closer to Sharon, handing her the eye-searing discs. ] Here, Vanna White, you'll want to toss it up on a vertical. Easier to track.
[ Reloading the rifle, he takes a few careful steps away, setting the stock against his shoulder and tipping the barrel up towards the sky. ] Whenever you're ready.
[ Sharon picks up on the sense of something regarding the painters through the tether. ] Why post-war painters?
[ At his mention of versatility, she taps the side of her nose in silent acknowledgment. Yeah, he gets it. The mock-scolding that follows earns nothing more than a sharp smack of her lips, playful but unrepentant. It’s the end of the world; she’ll take every scrap of enjoyment she can wring out of these moments, knowing they won’t last.
She accepts the neon discs but pauses to give him a baffled look. ] Who the fuck is Vanna White? [ Just before tossing the disc up vertically, exactly as he instructed. The temptation to hurl it sideways, turning it into a nearly impossible shot, is strong, but she decides she can save that little test for later. ]
You're going to think I'm bleak. [ That's not him avoiding the answer, just giving her some possible context on what's following. ] They'd seen the horror of the worst modern conflict at the time, the change in how warfare was conducted. There's not a lot of polish in their work; it's just raw emotion–the anxiety, depression, grief. And there's a question in each of them, wondering why we do this to ourselves, how we're going to remake and rebuild in the uncertainty.
[ All of it is thought provoking, but that last bit is what stops it from being something meant only to incite a sense of profound sadness. Thinking back to their conversation in the orchard, it echoes something he respects, in general: the ability to pick oneself off the ground and keep going.
Something which encapsulates them both, he thinks, as Sharon indicates he'd understood her reasoning for changeable mediums. Art's how she gets it all out, in a way that makes sense to her. Being a master with a particular kind is not the end goal. It's release. ]
What? She's– [ He doesn't get much further in his shocked explanation, since the frisbee gets launched into the air and he's automatically adjusted the rifle's angle to track its downwards trajectory. The neon disc spins, once, twice–he breathes in, breathes out–thrice, and there's a loud crack as he shoots a hole just below the center of the plastic. With the punch of the bullet, the frisbee wobbles and changes course a bit, finally landing with a dull sound a couple of feet from Sharon. ] –anyway, she's an assistant on Wheel of Fortune and turns the letters around when people guess them right. Not a lot of daytime TV in your life, huh?
[ Not bleak, more like quietly profound, the kind of insight that catches her off guard. Considering the weight Arthur carries, it’s natural he'd seek out reminders that humanity keeps moving forward regardless of the grief. Relentlessly. Even through horrors, even after lives lost. People find a way. ] Sounds like some shit Freddie would say. [ Softly. There’s no judgment in her tone; she gets it.
When the frisbee arcs into the air, he’s momentarily interrupted, his focus shifting with surprising ease. She watches him instead of the disc, noticing how his eyes track its descent, how his breathing lines up with the motion. She only looks away once the shot lands, watching the frisbee hit the ground, and grins as if the interruption never happened. ]
Not much cable TV in my life, actually. DVDs, streaming, that’s more my speed. [ She likes choosing what to watch, when to watch it. Just a whiff of control issues. Beyond that, Wheel of Fortune never held her interest, and game shows rarely did. She remembers vague flashes from her past, game shows in black & white flickering on Dahlia's tiny TV, but Wheel of Fortune didn't exist back then.
She flicks another frisbee up again, but only so high before catching it. ] Think you could hit it if I tossed it horizontally? [ She could be wrong, but Arthur gives the impression of a man who enjoys a challenge. ]
Don't think they usually aired on cable, now that I think about it. [ It was just one of those ubiquitous shows he'd always managed to find when he was either sick from school or, much later, in nearly every hotel room across the US. ] Normally caught it when I had the flu or something. Guess you're right, though, streaming's kind of taken over.
[ Though, he's rarely gotten a chance to catch anything new through those services. He's seen a lot of in-flight movies or burned into his podcast list.
That's neither here nor there, so as he reloads the rifle, he catches Sharon's motion and the resulting glimmer of a challenge in her expression. Something about it sparks his own sense of mischief and he gives her a sly look. ]
[ His probably earns an eye roll, though her grin only sharpens with anticipation. She sifts through the neon discs, plucking out one in an offensively bright orange. With a quick flick of her wrist, she tests the motion, then shoots Arthur a single, mischievous: ] Ready?
[ And with that, she sends it sailing into the park.
This time, her gaze doesn't follow him; it clings to the disc's flight. Hit or miss, she's already entertained. ]
[ Just as her grin widens, his own smirk curves up, amusement passing across their quiet connection. ] Bring it.
[ The words are muffled, his cheek pressed to the stock of the rifle, ready for the snap-motion of her wrist. It comes a split second later, the obnoxiously neon frisbee picking up a gust and curving outwards.
All of his attention has narrowed to its arc; made more difficult by trying to catch the edge. He fires, just clips the outer lip, and instead of the leisurely prep he's been doing, he's ejecting the cartridge and reloading in nearly the same breath. Exhaling, he pulls the trigger again as it spirals towards a spindly looking tree, watching the disc drop with a large split up one side. ]
[ Sharon is impressed the instant he clips the frisbee’s edge, sending it spinning off course, and when he opens his mouth again, she shoots him a look and exhales ] Fuck off.
[ The thing was barely two centimeters thick. He’d just shot a needle out of the sky. Under her breath, she mutters ] Needs practice, my ass. [ That kind of trick shot could fill seats, and it might be the coolest thing she’s seen since she got here. ] I want to do that.
[ At her teasing admonishment, he laughs, grin lingering in the aftermath. ]
C'mere then, I'll show you how this works. [ She'd learned on a pistol, so a rifle would be a bit different. But, it helped to be versatile. And distance shooting was easier this way, especially with moving targets.
Once again pointing the barrel down, he'll hold the rifle out towards Sharon to take, if she wants to give it a try. ]
Sweet. [ she says, stepping forward to take the rifle. It's a far cry from handling a pistol, but she adapts quickly, partly because she's skilled at copying others. Years of playing roles, of blending into the background, have made her exceptional at it—so long as no one pushes her too far. ]
It's got to be way harder to hit moving targets with something like this. [ She can't help but feel even more impressed by his ability to send a frisbee spinning out of the air. ]
[ They swap firearms, as she takes the rifle, so she had both hands freed up. As she gets used to the feel of it, he puts the pistol back in its case before turning his attention back to her. ]
Yes and no. The longer barrel makes it easier to judge distance. Because of that, you don't have to move it as much.
But, it is heavier, so it can put some strain on you, which is why you keep the stock anchored on your shoulder—keeps it steady. [ Stepping around to her other side, he nods at her hold on the gun. ] Give it a try.
[ Sharon shifts her hold, settling the rifle against her shoulder. The weight is awkward but manageable, something she figures she'd get used to with practice. Lining up her aim takes a little more effort, though, and she can't say she's exactly a fan.
Her gaze flicks to Arthur, and she nods toward where they first set up the cans. ] Mind putting one up for me?
[ He watches as Sharon maneuvers the rifle into a comfortable position against her shoulder, clearly getting used to the additional weight.
At her nod, he'll move to pick out more cans from the bag he'd brought along, setting three fresh targets up for her to take a crack at. Before that, though, he strides back towards Sharon, holding a hand just above her forearm. ]
May I? [ Her stance is solid, so that's not an issue. But, if she lets him, he'll make minute adjustments to the angle and how the stock rests. In a way, it's a good thing they're the same height—he can easily tell where her aim is going to go. ]
[ Sharon looks at his hovering hand, then hums an affirmative, surrendering to his guidance. She tries to burn each adjustment into her mind, the slight tilt of her wrist, the nudge of her shoulder. ]
Good? [ She asks when he finally steps back, eyes flicking to his without letting go of her hold. The moment he confirms, she exhales sharply, attention shifting back to the can. A slow breath in, a deliberate breath out, and then she pulls the trigger. The rifle kicks sharply against her shoulder, but she expected it, and the can flies off with a satisfying clatter. Her laugh bursts out, bright, fogging the cold air around them. ]
Won't be long before I'm knocking frisbees out of the air. [ The thrill of control, of learning, surges through her, and she can't help the grin tugging at her lips. ]
[ Gently, he makes his adjustments, lets Sharon get comfortable with them, and nods when she asks for the go-ahead.
As he thought, she's a quick study, eyes flicking towards the target he's placed out. A slow breath in, out, and the crack of fire as she pulls the trigger. Split seconds and the can sails, making a tinny sound as it lands on the frosted ground. Arthur shoots her a grin, buoyed on by her delighted laughter. ]
Oh, I think you'll get the hang of it sooner than you think. The real trick is anticipating where it's going to be, rather than where it is in your sights. [ Brightly: ] I give it a few days at most, to do it consistently. You've got an eye for this.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Versatile, then. Lets you work with whichever one you're feeling, at least. [ He can see the appeal, in having so many options that it was just a matter of picking one and running with it for the day. ]
Alright, hold onto your horses. [ It's a teasing admonishment, as he temporarily sets his gun down in its case. From the backpack, he produces a stack of frisbees, garish neon things that look like they're straight from one of those tourist kiosks. Plucking the rifle back up, he steps closer to Sharon, handing her the eye-searing discs. ] Here, Vanna White, you'll want to toss it up on a vertical. Easier to track.
[ Reloading the rifle, he takes a few careful steps away, setting the stock against his shoulder and tipping the barrel up towards the sky. ] Whenever you're ready.
no subject
[ At his mention of versatility, she taps the side of her nose in silent acknowledgment. Yeah, he gets it. The mock-scolding that follows earns nothing more than a sharp smack of her lips, playful but unrepentant. It’s the end of the world; she’ll take every scrap of enjoyment she can wring out of these moments, knowing they won’t last.
She accepts the neon discs but pauses to give him a baffled look. ] Who the fuck is Vanna White? [ Just before tossing the disc up vertically, exactly as he instructed. The temptation to hurl it sideways, turning it into a nearly impossible shot, is strong, but she decides she can save that little test for later. ]
no subject
[ All of it is thought provoking, but that last bit is what stops it from being something meant only to incite a sense of profound sadness. Thinking back to their conversation in the orchard, it echoes something he respects, in general: the ability to pick oneself off the ground and keep going.
Something which encapsulates them both, he thinks, as Sharon indicates he'd understood her reasoning for changeable mediums. Art's how she gets it all out, in a way that makes sense to her. Being a master with a particular kind is not the end goal. It's release. ]
What? She's– [ He doesn't get much further in his shocked explanation, since the frisbee gets launched into the air and he's automatically adjusted the rifle's angle to track its downwards trajectory. The neon disc spins, once, twice–he breathes in, breathes out–thrice, and there's a loud crack as he shoots a hole just below the center of the plastic. With the punch of the bullet, the frisbee wobbles and changes course a bit, finally landing with a dull sound a couple of feet from Sharon. ] –anyway, she's an assistant on Wheel of Fortune and turns the letters around when people guess them right. Not a lot of daytime TV in your life, huh?
no subject
When the frisbee arcs into the air, he’s momentarily interrupted, his focus shifting with surprising ease. She watches him instead of the disc, noticing how his eyes track its descent, how his breathing lines up with the motion. She only looks away once the shot lands, watching the frisbee hit the ground, and grins as if the interruption never happened. ]
Not much cable TV in my life, actually. DVDs, streaming, that’s more my speed. [ She likes choosing what to watch, when to watch it. Just a whiff of control issues. Beyond that, Wheel of Fortune never held her interest, and game shows rarely did. She remembers vague flashes from her past, game shows in black & white flickering on Dahlia's tiny TV, but Wheel of Fortune didn't exist back then.
She flicks another frisbee up again, but only so high before catching it. ] Think you could hit it if I tossed it horizontally? [ She could be wrong, but Arthur gives the impression of a man who enjoys a challenge. ]
no subject
[ Though, he's rarely gotten a chance to catch anything new through those services. He's seen a lot of in-flight movies or burned into his podcast list.
That's neither here nor there, so as he reloads the rifle, he catches Sharon's motion and the resulting glimmer of a challenge in her expression. Something about it sparks his own sense of mischief and he gives her a sly look. ]
Oh, probably. Let's find out, shall we?
no subject
[ And with that, she sends it sailing into the park.
This time, her gaze doesn't follow him; it clings to the disc's flight. Hit or miss, she's already entertained. ]
no subject
[ The words are muffled, his cheek pressed to the stock of the rifle, ready for the snap-motion of her wrist. It comes a split second later, the obnoxiously neon frisbee picking up a gust and curving outwards.
All of his attention has narrowed to its arc; made more difficult by trying to catch the edge. He fires, just clips the outer lip, and instead of the leisurely prep he's been doing, he's ejecting the cartridge and reloading in nearly the same breath. Exhaling, he pulls the trigger again as it spirals towards a spindly looking tree, watching the disc drop with a large split up one side. ]
Well, clearly I need some practice.
no subject
[ The thing was barely two centimeters thick. He’d just shot a needle out of the sky. Under her breath, she mutters ] Needs practice, my ass. [ That kind of trick shot could fill seats, and it might be the coolest thing she’s seen since she got here. ] I want to do that.
no subject
C'mere then, I'll show you how this works. [ She'd learned on a pistol, so a rifle would be a bit different. But, it helped to be versatile. And distance shooting was easier this way, especially with moving targets.
Once again pointing the barrel down, he'll hold the rifle out towards Sharon to take, if she wants to give it a try. ]
no subject
It's got to be way harder to hit moving targets with something like this. [ She can't help but feel even more impressed by his ability to send a frisbee spinning out of the air. ]
no subject
Yes and no. The longer barrel makes it easier to judge distance. Because of that, you don't have to move it as much.
But, it is heavier, so it can put some strain on you, which is why you keep the stock anchored on your shoulder—keeps it steady. [ Stepping around to her other side, he nods at her hold on the gun. ] Give it a try.
no subject
Her gaze flicks to Arthur, and she nods toward where they first set up the cans. ] Mind putting one up for me?
no subject
At her nod, he'll move to pick out more cans from the bag he'd brought along, setting three fresh targets up for her to take a crack at. Before that, though, he strides back towards Sharon, holding a hand just above her forearm. ]
May I? [ Her stance is solid, so that's not an issue. But, if she lets him, he'll make minute adjustments to the angle and how the stock rests. In a way, it's a good thing they're the same height—he can easily tell where her aim is going to go. ]
no subject
Good? [ She asks when he finally steps back, eyes flicking to his without letting go of her hold. The moment he confirms, she exhales sharply, attention shifting back to the can. A slow breath in, a deliberate breath out, and then she pulls the trigger. The rifle kicks sharply against her shoulder, but she expected it, and the can flies off with a satisfying clatter. Her laugh bursts out, bright, fogging the cold air around them. ]
Won't be long before I'm knocking frisbees out of the air. [ The thrill of control, of learning, surges through her, and she can't help the grin tugging at her lips. ]
no subject
As he thought, she's a quick study, eyes flicking towards the target he's placed out. A slow breath in, out, and the crack of fire as she pulls the trigger. Split seconds and the can sails, making a tinny sound as it lands on the frosted ground. Arthur shoots her a grin, buoyed on by her delighted laughter. ]
Oh, I think you'll get the hang of it sooner than you think. The real trick is anticipating where it's going to be, rather than where it is in your sights. [ Brightly: ] I give it a few days at most, to do it consistently. You've got an eye for this.