[ mick typically leaves the city to head into the forests beyond cadelle's populated areas to practice his firearm skills. but with the weather being less than lovely this time of year, he'd opted to check out the local gun range instead. he heads inside to sign in and grab a lane to shoot only to learn that his heatgun is 'not permitted' except for in the practical shooting skills course, which is temporarily unavailable. strike one.
naturally, he glares at the clerk and takes the offered handgun, which feels tiny in comparison as he weighs it between his palms. he's summarily dismissed after signing the necessary waiver forms and picking up his safety gear. after checking that the safety is still engaged, mick walks to lane 9 (the one he'd been assigned) which it seems already has an occupant. strike two. great. ]
You've got to be fucking kidding me. Either you're in my lane or these idiots don't know how to count.
all i wanna do is gunshot gunshot cash register
naturally, he glares at the clerk and takes the offered handgun, which feels tiny in comparison as he weighs it between his palms. he's summarily dismissed after signing the necessary waiver forms and picking up his safety gear. after checking that the safety is still engaged, mick walks to lane 9 (the one he'd been assigned) which it seems already has an occupant. strike two. great. ]
You've got to be fucking kidding me. Either you're in my lane or these idiots don't know how to count.
[ sorry gamora. he's a hothead to be sure. ]