the coldness runs through my veins you know my name || OPEN

[unhand]

WHO || Hook and WHOEVER'S HANGING AROUND THE CASTLE
WHAT || Playing with guns
WHERE || Shooting range
WHEN || 2/28 daytime
HOW || WHATEVER FLOATS YOUR BOAT.

♬ Chris Cornell - You Know my Name

Hook still was getting used to this new world. He hadn't given up his usual black leather apparel, and he hadn't gone for some sort of new fake hand that may have been more functional or at least more normal looking than the hook.

What he had gotten used to was guns.

The Excalibur Pistol was simple enough to use, and amazingly powerful for such a little thing. Hook had decided pretty quickly that he liked it.

He leveled it at the target and shot. It clipped the edge of the target (atk 9). He frowned, readjusting the pistol. As simple a thing as it was, it seemed it would actually need some work for him to get actually good at using it. No matter, he had time to spare. He readjusted his gun and shot again (atk 11). It hit the target. Outer edge, but not bad for a man from a world where these things don't exist.

He held up the gun again, aiming carefully. Unbidden, he thought of Gold, the man Emma said he wanted to kill.

He pulled the trigger. The bullet sank into the dead center of the target (atk 23).

Well, now. Maybe he could get the hang of this thing after all.

Comments

[cuivre]

Miles stood against the wall, and as the last bullet hit the target, he began to clap. He was genuinely impressed, and it showed as much in his expression.

"Nice shot," he said, pushing off the wall with one foot as his arms crossed over his chest and moving closer so that he could further examine the shot from the end of the range.

"Think you can do it again?"

[unhand]

Hook looked over at him, lowering the pistol. "Might be I can." He turned around quickly and shot, but he didn't put nearly the same focus into it this time (atk 8) and the shot went wide. "...or not." he shrugged, turning towards the other man. "I'm new at this."

[cuivre]

"I like hitting things better myself," he admitted casually. "With my fists or otherwise."

He moved a little closer, eyes lowering to the gun and then over to the target. "Mind if I try?"

[unhand]

That got a sharp grin, and Hook offered him the gun. "I like hitting things a great deal myself, though I'm a bit short on fists." Hitting things with a sharp, metal hook, though, that was indeed fun.

[cuivre]

"Built in weapon, eh? Can't complain about that."

He took the gun and turned toward the target, raising it to point down the lane. He took a moment to aim before he pulled the trigger once, the bullet only tagging the very edge of the paper, not coming even close to the actual target (atk 6). He readjusted before he fired again, this time sinking the bullet in the dead center of the target's center (atk 20).

"I'm going to call luck on the second one," he said, chuckling and he passed the gun back.

[unhand]

"Or practice." Hook took the gun himself and turned towards the target again, taking aim. He shot (atk 22) and smirked as the bullet sunk in the center of the target. "I think I'm getting better."

[cuivre]

He chuckled, giving him a nod. "Practice always helps."

Miles watched as the man took another shot, nodding in approval.

"That would be my guess, yeah." He held a hand out then. "I'm Miles, by the way. You one of the newer squires around here, right?"

Miles himself was pretty new, and newbies should stick together, right?

[unhand]

Hook nodded, offering his hook to shake. He was using the good hand to hold the gun. It had been a few months, but he supposed he still counted on the new side. He hadn't even gone on any missions yet.

"Call me Hook."

[cuivre]

Miles grinned and shook the hook in stride. Now there's something he never thought he'd do, really.

"That'll be easy enough to remember."

[unhand]

"Aye, I'll admit it's not the most imaginative monicker." He holds up the hook, examining. "Still, you can't argue how fitting it is. I've become attached to the bloody thing." ...literally. But also figuratively. It's not really a perfect replacement for a hand, but he's become good at using it, and he does love the intimidation factor.

[cuivre]

"It does mean you'll always have a weapon with you in a tight spot," he said, his expression showing both amusement and approval. "No one can really take away your hand, after all, right?"

It might be a little rudimentary, but it did the job.

"And I guess there's something poetic about it."

[unhand]

"Clearly, someone did. Take away my hand, that is." He dropped the hook, looking over at Miles again. He didn't remember losing his hand. Emma had said the man Gold had cut it off, but the crocodile might have eaten it, for all Hook could recall. "How's that poetic?"

[cuivre]

Miles held up his hand, palms out. "I don't know man, it's just a figure of speech. Which I probably used incorrectly."

He shrugged he shoulders, a sideways grin on his face. "I guess that's what I get for trying to sound smart."

[unhand]

"It's never good to try and sound like something you aren't." Not that Hook had any notion of how clever Miles was or wasn't. He was just being an asshole. He turned back towards the target and shot again (atk 21), the bullet thudding into the center.

[cuivre]

Miles smirked anyway, eyebrows raised. "I'll remember that."

And then the gun went off again, and he smiled as the bullet hit the dead center of the target. "Keep at it, tiger. Consistency is key, from what I hear. I'll leave you to it."

[unhand]

Hook saluted casually, then went to reload his gun. "I'm certain I'll be seeing you around."