(018) Eighteenth Report [>>Accidental Video]
[When the video begins, it quickly becomes obvious that it isn't intentional on behalf of its owner: the tablet's sitting upright on a dresser, the surface pretty well-kept except for some papers and books currently piled on the corners.
The rest of the view shows a bedroom, and Jill's moving around it in a quick but efficient manner, straightening things here and there and picking up what few bits of clothing and some notebooks and such have managed to accumulate on the end of the bed or on her desk, occasionally the floor -- places they don't belong, of course. Finding her baseball cap in the seat of her chair, she haphazardly pulls it backwards over her hair for lack of arm space. Combined with the laundry she carries and her casually determined movements, there's a comfortable, almost bedraggled-mother look about her. Y'know. If you're into that kind of thing.
She's doing a little spring winter cleaning, is all, unaware of the tablet's recording; the laundry gathered, she drops it into a basket and then opens her closet -- and for the most part it's a typical closet, clothes and shoes and the like, mostly everyday and comfortable things, something a little nicer here and there. There's even one of those holder-things hanging on the inside of the door, the kind of contraption many women would use to hold extra articles that couldn't fit inside the closet itself.
Jill's, however, holds the entirety of her small armory. Guns ranging in both size and caliber hang in an organized fashion, from simple nine-millimeters to a six-chamber revolver, from her original twin VZ61s to a hefty shotgun -- the barrel of which seems to be sawed off a little below the legal limit where she's from -- among others. Flash grenades, a spare hunting knife, boxes of ammunition, scopes, silencers, and other such accessories round out the display. Honestly, no gun store could be more organized -- or diverse.
Jill doesn't even glance at the weapons cache. She just props up her jacket on a spare hanger, removes her hat to place it on the shelf, and closes the closet -- and would you look at that, there's absolutely no way of telling that she owns a lethal stash big enough to send gun control enthusiasts crying and screaming for their lives. No, the closet is simple and unassuming from the outside. Nothing unordinary about this lady's room.
That done, she moves back to sorting through the laundry -- good thing, because as she turns out the pockets of a pair of jeans, she finds a half-empty 9mm magazine. Yeah, the washer probably wouldn't handle that very well.]
The rest of the view shows a bedroom, and Jill's moving around it in a quick but efficient manner, straightening things here and there and picking up what few bits of clothing and some notebooks and such have managed to accumulate on the end of the bed or on her desk, occasionally the floor -- places they don't belong, of course. Finding her baseball cap in the seat of her chair, she haphazardly pulls it backwards over her hair for lack of arm space. Combined with the laundry she carries and her casually determined movements, there's a comfortable, almost bedraggled-mother look about her. Y'know. If you're into that kind of thing.
She's doing a little spring winter cleaning, is all, unaware of the tablet's recording; the laundry gathered, she drops it into a basket and then opens her closet -- and for the most part it's a typical closet, clothes and shoes and the like, mostly everyday and comfortable things, something a little nicer here and there. There's even one of those holder-things hanging on the inside of the door, the kind of contraption many women would use to hold extra articles that couldn't fit inside the closet itself.
Jill's, however, holds the entirety of her small armory. Guns ranging in both size and caliber hang in an organized fashion, from simple nine-millimeters to a six-chamber revolver, from her original twin VZ61s to a hefty shotgun -- the barrel of which seems to be sawed off a little below the legal limit where she's from -- among others. Flash grenades, a spare hunting knife, boxes of ammunition, scopes, silencers, and other such accessories round out the display. Honestly, no gun store could be more organized -- or diverse.
Jill doesn't even glance at the weapons cache. She just props up her jacket on a spare hanger, removes her hat to place it on the shelf, and closes the closet -- and would you look at that, there's absolutely no way of telling that she owns a lethal stash big enough to send gun control enthusiasts crying and screaming for their lives. No, the closet is simple and unassuming from the outside. Nothing unordinary about this lady's room.
That done, she moves back to sorting through the laundry -- good thing, because as she turns out the pockets of a pair of jeans, she finds a half-empty 9mm magazine. Yeah, the washer probably wouldn't handle that very well.]