Log:The Fine Art of Pointing Your Blaster At Something And Squeezing The Trigger

The Fine Art of Pointing Your Blaster at Something and Squeezing the Trigger

OOC Date: May 10, 2017
Location: Crude Targets - Gun Emporium and Firing Range
Participants: Corr Waldin, Trillian Taim

Inside the Crude Targets rifle store, a man dressed in something vaguely resembling a uniform is in the middle of semi-heated negotiations with the clerk, apparently over the long black rifle set on the counter between them. "You really expect me t'believe you got no way of knowin' where this thing came from?" the uniformed man demands, stabbing a finger down at the weapon.

"Wish I could help ya, buddy, but for true and all, someone filed the serials clean off and done a deep-clean of the firmware to boot. This gun's cleaner than your momma's conscience, that's for damn sure." The clerk wipes his hands on a dirty rag, shaking his head and tossing the scrap of cloth over his shoulder. "Might be I know a fella can move it for ya, though."

"It's not for sale," Corr replies tepidly, pursing his lips and dropping his hands to the rifle's stock.

Trillian Taim cautiously steps through the door of the gun store. She looks in amazement at the assortment of vicious looking blasters adorning the walls and cases. She gingerly moves through the room looking around with wide eyes. Noticing the gruff and normally taciturn Corr Waldin standing with the clerk, her eyes light up and she waves timidly.

If the white knuckles gripping the duraplast stock of the rifle are any indication, it'd be a treat to wring this unhelpful clerk's neck, but Corr's grasp relaxes a moment later with a steady exhale, shaking his head once to clear the violent thoughts away. Jerking the weapon up from the counter, he gives a single nod to the man behind it and turns as if to go, but that brings his attention around to the small, timidly-waving, innocent-looking woman from the Lost Circus, and that other chance encounter. "...Trill?" Something like that. "You buyin' blasters now?" His brow rises, archlike, evidently surprised to find the mousey girl arming herself for combat.

"Hello Corr!" greets Trillian in a soft voice. She looks around the store apprehensively while walking over to the counter. Stopping in front of Corr, she smiles at the older man. "Oh... um.... well... maybe.... I mean... not really... I was actually... um... looking to see if maybe they offered some... um... classes... for like blaster safety and stuff..," she stammers, flushing bright red. She looks over at the clerk hopefully. The clerk looks her up and down, and you can almost hear the credits clinking in his thoughts. Trillian shrinks back at the close inspection.

Glancing back over his shoulder to follow her hopeful/apprehensive gaze, Corr can't help but see the way the clerk is regarding the easy target and her discomfort at the prospect of doing business with him. The man's lips purse together again, and he turns a slightly resigned look back to Trillian. "They got a range, don't mean I'd trust him to show you the ropes, though," he warns, with a frightening-looking, military-grade, almost-definitely-illegal rifle hanging easily in his hand as casually as if it were a lunchbox.

Trillian looks over at the range area apprehensively, and then back at Corr confusedly. "Oh... um... well... um... do you think maybe ... um... you could... help me with the range? I've... I've never actually used one before," asks Trillian. "I mean... um... I... um... I have this... pistol... but I've never... actually had to use it before. My parents got it for me before I left Corellia."

"Sent you off without knowin' how to use it?" Egad. Corr blinks in consternation, pushing the fingers of his free hand back through his hair and holding his hand against the back of his neck while he gives her a thoughtful once-over, as if deciding whether this is his problem or not. "Don't you run with Hex an' his lot? They prob'ly got someone as can show you which end is which." The hand drops and tucks awkwardly into one trouser pocket.

"Oh! They did... sort of... kind of... um... Tarion said it was remarkably easy. I point the firing end away from myself, and then I squeeze the trigger," explains Trillian, miming holding the gun and squeezing one eye shut, aiming and pulling a trigger. "... it's just... um... I mean... I know the theory... I just haven't ... done it... really."

The explanation, complete with stumbles and enough awkward pauses to fill a feature-length drama, gets a sort of screwed-up confused face from Corr. "Well, your friend's not /too/ wrong, I guess," he allows, deciding that this problem that has dropped into his lap is His Problem and finally starting to meander towards the target range. "You got your gun on you?" he asks, sliding the rifle, barrel end away, onto a table.

Trillian nods enthusiastically, and fumbles around in her pocket before pulling out a small box recognizable as a pistol case. She turns the box over several times before finding the locking mechanism, and then places her thumb over the reader. A second later, the case unlocks with a friendly beep, and she opens it before suddenly closing it, apologizing, and turning it right side up. She pulls out a small and compact Czerka 411 which she immediately hands over to Corr. It's very shiny, looks like it's never been used and doesn't even have the power pack installed.

Corr raises an eyebrow again at the packaging of said pistol, which she's apparently been carrying around in the box it came in. "...alright," he begins, taking it over from her when she passes it to him. "Coupla rules to keep in mind. Keep your finger off the trigger is the big one, least till you're ready to fire." He shows her his hand, wrapped around the grip, with the trigger finger up on the frame above the trigger. It's a small pistol, so there's not a ton of space for his bigger hands. "And don't point it at nothin' you don't want blown to bits, neither."

Trillian nods politely, and mimes holding her hand like Corr. She makes sure her finger is pointing forward, and not where the trigger would be. Nodding again, she takes the pistol back from Corr and stands in the lane in front of the range and wraps her hand around the handle of the pistol. Looking down carefully, she looks at Corr for reassurance, and then holds the pistol out with both hands wrapped around it, locking her elbows and standing stiffly in front of the target.

Giving her stance a once-over, Corr steps in to start adjusting things, starting to switch over to Master Sergeant Waldin mode. "Get your off-hand up a little higher, it's not a cup. Bend your knees, and quit lockin' your elbows. Hold it here." The man mimes the position back at her, hands most of the way extended, but not all. "And get your feet staggered. Some folks say that's wrong, but they're idiots shootin' targets an' not people."

Trillian is trying with all her ability to follow the animated instructions, but as she fixes one thing, she forgets another. But she does her best, and Corr is being incredibly patient with her. Finally, she is able to adopt a passable stance though she's muttering under her breath the whole time. "... don't lock elbows, stagger feet... um... ok, off-hand higher, bend knees... um... don't lock elbows..." She's completely focused on looking at her pistol, and not looking down-range at all.

"Now lean into it," Corr instructs when he deems the rest of her stance passable. "Not that far. There. The sight is here, but you don't look at that, understand? You look at the target. You got a front sight post and a rear sight, looks like a V. You put that post in the V nice and level, understand? Then look at the target and cut the freakin' bulls-eye in half with your sights."

Trillian looks confusedly at Corr. "... but... how do you have time to line up the little V and stuff?" Noticing the older man's frown, she turns back and sets up her stance again, and carefully sights down the pistol's barrel at the target at the end of the range. She stands there for a second, carefully looking down the range and then takes her finger off the side of the pistol and onto the trigger. Pulling the trigger, she winces, expecting to hear the loud report of the blaster. But instead, nothing happens. Blinking. She squeezes the trigger a few more times, but nothing happens except for a clicking noise. She turns to Corr in puzzlement. "You didn't load it," Corr points out gently, a finger highlighting the power pack still in the box.

Trillian blushes bright red, and takes the power pack out of the case and tries attaching it to the pistol several times, before turning it over and aligning it the correct way. The Czerka hums with power and it beeps several times before emitting a high-pitched charging whine.

"There you go. Now put it all together, it's not that hard." Corr's arms cross over his chest as he lounges his weight back onto one leg to watch her take the first shot.

Trillian breathes deeply, and then sets up her stance again, elbows bent and flexible, but still providing support. She carefully lines up her sights and looks at the target at the end of the range. Unconsciously, she holds her breath as she zero's in on the target, takes her finger off the side of the pistol and carefully squeezes the trigger... The Czerka barks a sharp cough, and a laser blast careens down the range, completely missing the target. Trillian shrieks in reflex, and nearly drops the pistol. Turning to Corr slowly, she's bright red in the face again.

"Keep ahold of it and keep it pointed that way," Corr barks, a little more roughly than intended. "It don't bite. Now do it again, and hit the thing this time." Guns apparently turn him into a slightly different person.

Trillian nods shyly and turns back to the range, setting up her stance, carefully sighting down the lane and controlling her breathing. She squeezes the trigger again, and another crimson bold careens down the lane, striking the arm holding the target. She readjusts, and fires again, this time catching the corner of the target. Turning around to look at Corr, she shoots him a look of pure wonder. Her green eyes sparkle and she's got a grin the size of her face beaming back at him. "I hit it, Corr! I hit the target!"

"Good shootin'," Corr replies, with a nod and the hint of a tiny grin, really just a tug at the corner of his mouth. The man's arms uncross, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets as the tension dissipates and he reverts into normal, backward, taciturn, slightly awkward Corr instead of Barkin' MSgt Waldin. "You keep workin' on that till you hit it every time and maybe you'll be alright if you ever gotta pull it on somebody."

Trillian, almost floating on air, turns back at the target and fires three more times, missing once, hitting the corner of the target again, and then one shot actually falling within the circles on the target. The scoreboard above the range lights up with a red "5." Trillian squeals with excitement, carefully puts the pistol down and bounces over to Corr. "Did you see? I hit an actual target that time!" Trillian says excitedly, grabbing Corr's arm. "Thank you so much! I really appreciate you taking the time to help me out. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Without thinking about it, Trillian wraps both arms around the gruff, older man's neck and gives him a big hug.

What the hell is this?! Corr half-recoils from the hug, his eyes narrowing with shock, like someone just threw hot caf on him or something. He doesn't move into the hug, he doesn't pull away, he doesn't scold her, he just sort of... freezes, until it's over. With his hands still in his pockets. "Uh. Yeh. You got it. Try to uh, try t' keep out of trouble, though," he mutters when she lets him go, one hand coming up to scratch awkwardly behind his ear.

It was probably about halfway into the hug, that Trillian's social anxiety finally caught up to her. As she realizes that she has both of her arms around a stranger, she also freezes in place. She feels the blood rush to her face and they're caught in an awkward embrace for a second. She finally steps back from him, and stammers out an apology as Corr reaches a hand up to scratch his ear. "oh... um... I'm sorry! Um... I didn't mean to... I mean... I got so excited... and... um... I'm so sorry," pleads Trillian, tears in her eyes. "Um... I hope... um... I hope I didn't... um... insult you... I'm so sorry."

Shit, now she's crying. Corr doesn't have the Charisma stat to handle this situation. "No, um, you're fine," he assures her quickly when he notices the tears starting to well up. "You, uh, you did good. Good shootin'." Yeah, reuse that line, there you go. "Keep workin' on it, and that," he continues vaguely, waving his finger in the rough direction of the target. "When you got time, or whatever."

Trillian is horrified that she's made Corr visibly uncomfortable. She doesn't WANT to cry in front of him, but she can't help it as the hot tears prick at her eyes. She wants to apologize again, but it catches in her throat. And he was being SO nice to her too. She just had to go and ruin it like a dummy. Dummy, dummy, Trillian! She mentally castigates herself. She turns as if she's going to say something again to him, but can't find any words so she opens and shuts her mouth a few times. "Um... thank you... um... is.. um... is there anything else you can show me?" she finally blurts out, mentally cringing.

After watching Trillian as she appears to reboot her brain several times before the next words come out, Corr starts wondering if he should just try to get the heck out of here before she has some sort of breakdown or a conniption. "Don't mention it. What else you need shown?"

Trillian, starting to calm down, thinks for a minute. And then cocks her head to one side, looking at Corr. "Well... um... I guess... I dunno. I just feel like I'm not really... um... prepared for if something happens. I mean. I get all jumpy and tend to freeze up. I don't know if I'd have the wits about me to be able to pull my weapon and be in the right stance and sight things, you know?" Trillian looks glum as she explains. She slumps her shoulders and traces a finger on the Czerka as it lays on the table. "I guess... I guess... I just don't... want to be a hindrance to my team, you know? How... how can I get more brave?"

The question proves to be a complicated one, with Corr staring at her throughout the explanation until she peters off into a final inquiry. "Well, really there ain't no way," the former soldier relates, with a small shrug. "Just keep practicing what I shown you and get confident. Once you get good, it happens faster. Get some live training if you're really wanting to be ready to shoot someone. Not like shootin' targets. Not by a long shot." His expression sours into a hard frown for a moment, but then he remembers how fragile Trillian's social aura seems to be and nudges himself back into a neutral look. "That's about all you can do."

Trillian looks a bit disappointed by the explanation, but nods thankfully. "Ah. I was hoping maybe you had some sort of ... um... I dunno... trick... or something that helps..." Trillian says wistfully. "Do... um... I mean... do you ever get scared? Like... that you're not going to do the right thing when you have to? I'm... I'm always scared about that. And that I'm going to screw up ... and... and then somebody will get hurt," she says panicked, and starting to hyperventilate.

"Long as you didn't shoot 'em, it ain't your fault," Corr advises practically, shrugging. "I get scared every time. Being scared don't do much for you, though, and freezin' up does less. It gets easier more times you're in that situation, to keep movin', but you never stop being scared." It seems like he's done, until he adds, "'Less you get mad enough, of course."

Trillian laughs at his last remark, sounding just this side of being a little too frantic. She blushes at her outburst and looks at Corr again, with warmth in her eyes. "Corr.... I... um... I really appreciate you taking the time to help me... I ... um... I know. I'm just ... um... I'm really bad at this kind of stuff," Trillian says sadly. "I... um... Just... um... thank you. If I can ever repay the favor, please let me know. You're a really, good guy." Trillian smiles at the old soldier and bows slightly before him.

"You got it," Corr replies simply, nodding slightly in return. Is that all he has to say to her speech of gratitude? It looks like it, because now he's gathering up that rifle from the table again, the unidentifiable one that no one can trace, at least according to the clerk here. "You need anything, the CDF office on Lehtera's where I am. We try t'stop folks like you from needin' to know how to do this in the first place."

Trillian nods again, and starts packing up her pistol, looking gratefully as Corr picks up the vicious looking rifle. "Thank you!" calls out Trillian again to the old soldier.