(Untitled)

[remindmeof_me]

It's been a little less than half a day since Shephard was in the Bar last. Time, what a weirdness she is. He's here today with his bow slung across his back and Mrs. Wilson at his heels. The houndeye is wearing a minimal harness of bright orange, just enough to go around her two front legs and provide an anchor for a good strong rope. It'd be a

Comments

[braveomaticaya]

Tsu'tey does, it should be noted, think out the consequences of popping one of Adrian's balloons; that would be why he does it from a distance, crouched in one of the high branches of a tree, backed against the trunk.

Shephard will probably notice the arrow burying itself in the hay bale is much longer and has come from quite the distance.

[remindmeof_me]

Shephard goes very still at that. Someone is shooting from behind his current position, after all.

After several seconds he turns to follow the arrow's likeliest trajectory back towards the treeline.

[braveomaticaya]

He wouldn't have hit Shephard: he knows better than that, at least. If, perhaps, only a little.

But the big blue kittyman, as some have referred to Tsu'tey in the bar, is fairly noticeable against the foliage and doesn't much bother with the pretense of hiding. "You," he says, dropping from branch to branch to ground, "Are a good shot."

[remindmeof_me]

It's a matter of principle. Even if Howard Hill himself had fired it, Shephard would've held still. Because the day he didn't would be the day some dumbass kid was back there instead, and he doesn't want to break a safety habit.

"Thanks," he says as Tsu'tey reaches ground level. "Had me a bow near as long as I've had guns. Made this one myself."

[not_his_pa]

William gets the note and goes back through his door to get his rifle before searching for Shephard out by the archery range.

Then he watches for a while, he's never seen anyone shoot quite like that before.

[remindmeof_me]

Eventually Shephard lowers the bow. He has to. He's out of arrows. It's then that he spots William and raises one hand in greeting.

[not_his_pa]

William waves back, "I got your note."

[remindmeof_me]

Shephard nods. "Found us a good place to take Mrs. Wilson," he says. "Good ways away from town, plenty of cover, and houndeye tracks'n shit. Thought you might like to come along."

Millitimed to before the invited guests.

[md_donighal]

The Donighal may be working on his human side, but every now and then he just needs to stretch his node. That's why the day finds him flying around the grounds; no significant anima banner, only a faint glow. He is wearing the armor and cape, though.

It's the sound of popping balloons that first gets his attention. When he looks at the source area, his attention is next drawn to the... creature, only then to the archer. This, he decides, bears closer investigation.

On the way there, he zooms in and recognizes a face he's seen around, and the context in which he's seen it. That, combined with the uniform, leads him to conclude that approaching in full Beacon Mal mode would just be rude, so he shifts to his gray suit, discreetly lands among some nearby trees and waits for the target practice to end.

Re: Millitimed to before the invited guests.

[remindmeof_me]

Shephard's got about fifteen arrows in his quiver, although he fires each one slow and careful and with thorough follow-through, so it takes a while to send them all into the target. He doesn't notice the new arrival until he's halfway back from reclaiming the lot from the backstop. "Afternoon," he calls. "Didn't see you there. You come to shoot?"

Re: Millitimed to before the invited guests.

[md_donighal]

"I considered it, but I didn't want to scare your pet. I'd ask you what she is, but before I go expecting answers, I really ought to tell you who I am." He bows the way they used to, back when cars were big and everyone wore hats. "Michael Donighal, post-human rights advocate; damn glad to meet you."

Re: Millitimed to before the invited guests.

[remindmeof_me]

Shephard's not going to salute a civilian, but he does not sharply in response. "Sergeant-Major Adrian Shephard," he says, "and it's a pleasure to meet you too. Name sounds familiar but I don't reckon I c'n put a finger on it proper. Mrs. Wilson, git over here'n sit."

The little creature trots up and does so, blinking one enormous ring of eyelid over all the eyes on her front end at once.

"Good girl."