When the fire turns cold, who's here?

[saccharinesugar]

And there is a Misa in all her blond hair and existential angsting and oh gawds why is she holding a gun.

.... hm, wait. This is the shooting range after all. This room practically legitimatizes a person's right to wield firearms.

She's holding a compact semi-automatic and staring at it like she's never seen one before.

Well.

She hasn't.

[Private to faithinthefire.]

Comments

[faithinthefire]

[Mikhail goes to the shooting range several times each week, so that he won't get out of practice. It's usually empty. He comes to halt with ingrained military precision when he steps in this time and sees that he's not going to have it to himself.]

Miss Amane. I will let you alone, if you prefer.

[saccharinesugar]

[She regards him with a flat look.]

... if I prefer? Really, Mikhail, I have no preferences. But if you don't want to hear my moralistic preaching about death and philosophy, then by all means - just tell it to me straight.

[faithinthefire]

You may preach about anything you wish. I owe you an apology.

[He's itching to correct her grip on the gun, but stays by the door.]

[saccharinesugar]

[Misa almost _gapes_. That was... highly unexpected. Then she reconsiders. She and Mikhail had to have different train of thoughts here.]

Apology accepted. You shouldn't have left me alone in the sewers as I could have gotten eaten.

And you ruined my brownie, so now you must bake me a new one.

[Yes.]

[faithinthefire]

Neither should I have been so insensitive about your... recent trouble. [That was the root of their disagreement, he feels.]

But I cannot bake. Borscht, this I could make, but it is no replacement for sweets.

[saccharinesugar]

[Misa blinks, surprised, and then she just kinda blushes, looking incredibly flustered. A lot seems to run through her mind, but she chooses to gloss over their previous argument and stick to talking about something more causal instead.]

.... borscht is that weird stew, isn't it. It's this bright pink color and is made of strange vegetables.

[It's obvious she's disgusted by the mere existence of borscht.]

[faithinthefire]

Beets are not that strange! Underappreciated, but not strange. They are very hardy also.

[He gives her a hesitant smile, glad she seems willing to let bygones be bygones.]

Miss Amane, you have never used a gun before.

[saccharinesugar]

[Misa finds herself laughing at his indignation for whatever reason.]

Yes. Well.

[Stares at the gun. Decides not to make a crack about trying to blow her brains out.

Then also decides not to say anything about how her choice of a murder weapon was a pen. Misa didn't recall is Mikhail knew about Kira and Death Notes and frankly, she wasn't willing to risk it after they had _just_ patched things up.]

... never had a reason to.

[Lamest answer ever, she thinks. She hates having to sound weak and helpless.]

[faithinthefire]

I would hope you do not have a reason now, but it is a useful thing to know, all the same.

[Mikhail still doesn't have much faith that the mansion won't decide to throw the living dead at them at any moment. He steps closer to Misa.]

To make reparations for your brownie, I could show you.

[saccharinesugar]

............................................................

.....................................................................

[Misa looks away.]

Ah, no, I'm good.

[faithinthefire]

[He shrugs.] As you like. [After a hesitation, he adds,] Only, point it at the ground, please, or out onto the range, even when you are not touching the trigger.

You will not mind if I take my practice now?

[saccharinesugar]

[It takes a moment for those words to settle in. Oh right, there was at least one person in the room that wasn't dead yet. Misa lowers the gun to her side, being careful not to touch the trigger.

She considers what Mikhail says.]

Only if I can watch you.

[faithinthefire]

Of course.

[He locates the gun he's used before in here, an AK-47 very similar to his own, except that it's considerably less old. He sets it to semi-automatic, and looks over at Misa.]

It will be loud.

[saccharinesugar]

I'll manage.

[She scoots over to the side.]

[faithinthefire]

[Mikhail habitually doesn't use ear protection: it's not as though they have it in the Empire, not anymore. He steps up to the line, his expression blanker than usual, and fires ten shots in quick succession, as fast as he can pull the trigger. Which is fast. He's in good practice thanks to having not much else to do with his time. He lowers the rifle and flips the switch to bring the target in. All the shots are to the head, clustered closely enough that they've made one large hole. He looks over at Misa and allows himself a smile.]

Not very bad.

[saccharinesugar]

... ... ...

[Misa stands there, ogling at the hole with her eyebrows raised sky high.]

Jeez-louise. Remind me never to get you mad again.