Shooting Range, Friday evening

[willbethenight]

If there was anything Bruce loved more than the feel of a M1911 single action, semi-automatic pistol in his hand, it was the sound the gun made when it went off. He was filling paper targets full of hot lead, sheet after sheet, for a period of time that felt like something between "forever" and "not long enough." Really, he almost wished this gun was a woman, so he could take it out on a few dates, meet its parents, get married, and raise a family. Their son would be named Bullet and their daughter would be named Sunshine, because bullets and sunshine were two things Bruce loved nearly as much as firing this beautiful gun.

They would also have a dog named Fluffy.

But none of that was possible, so Bruce was just going to continue to enjoy himself on the shooting range.

[OOC: The range is open!]