who ; Peggy Carter and yooooou
what ; Target Practice! With a shiny future gun... thing!
where ; Garden Zone 04
when ; A day or two or three ago or something.
warning(s) ; I know jackshit about guns? Oops.
(
she was walking around with a loaded shotgun )
He's just suddenly there, leaning against that mess of logs she's been shooting at. Arms folded, his posture both cocky and completely relaxed. And yes, Peggy, he's examining his nails.
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But he trusts Rogers. And Rogers, damn the man, does. Pietro can hardly rely on his judgment in one respect and disdain it in another. He doesn't have to respect her - nor does he imagine he can - but he might as well make an effort to play nice.
So. Give him a moment, Peggy, he's going to just. Go make a quick trip to the junkyard. It doesn't take him very long, and after a few moments he's back with a box which he dumps unceremoniously beside her. It's full of things. Shootable things. And maybe one or two genuine clay pigeons.
"It wouldn't do for you to get rusty," he says, actually managing neutrality instead of snarky condescension for once. "I'll throw them. If you think you can keep up."
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"I don't get rusty," Peggy says before kicking the box back over towards him. "The weapon isn't designed for long range. Keep them at the appropriate distance, or the practice is pointless."
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So maybe it's a little out of her range.
But only a little.
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A bullet manages to chip at the jug anyway, and it falls to the ground flatly. But she frowns at Pietro. She could have shattered it completely had it been thrown right.
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Not awful, either.
His next throw (a plate) is a little more precise.
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She's grinning on the inside, but not on the outside. The MA37 was quite different from other similar guns she was used to, but she suspected it wouldn't take long to adjust to it.
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Assault rifles aren't precision weapons, nor are they meant to be used as such. He's heard S.H.I.E.L.D agents in the field refer to them as armaments of the 'spray and pray' variety. But accuracy can be the difference between life and death, for people who move and think at a rate somewhat less than the RPM of a conventional AR.
He fishes another target out of the box - a teapot this time - and after a moment tosses that into the fray as well.
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And she fires at the teapot, again not hitting the center but still managing to break it.
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He watches the little ceramic shards of teapot fall. It may as well be in slow motion. Then again, nearly everything is.
"The truth is, you could be doing better and we both know it."
To demonstrate, he'll just chuck one of those pigeons into the air, shall he? It's practically a discus, so he tosses it with a bit of an underhand, so that it'll spin properly for a shot.
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Yet being the keyword, but now she's determined to hit his next throw as close to center as possible. So when it flies through the air, she takes extra careful aim, holds the gun in a slightly different position, and fires.
And finally, her shot hits the middle, and the pigeon shatters. Much better.
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"That's more like it."
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"Good-day, Agent Carter."
It's only the slightest bit dry this time around.
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"You have my gratitude for the assistance." Because professionalism equals politeness when called for.
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