His sixth shot at shooting shit [Recorded / At the shooting range]
[Recorded tersely.] Donna. Happy Birthday.
... I'll be back in the castle around evening. Maybe we can touch base then.
[This done, he shuts the journal, tucks it in his pocket, and turns to his brace of gun-toting miniature punks. The guns in his holsters are bright red - like his leathers - blocky and custom-made. He draws one, and affixes an extra blocky piece to the barrel while he talks.]
We've got two choices. We can use silencers, or we can spend the last half of the time here fending off pissy alligators. [Pause. Pointedly] I'm a conservationist. And neither of you would look good in gator boots.
((All gun-toting badasses welcome. Fair warning, Roy is in a Mood.))
... I'll be back in the castle around evening. Maybe we can touch base then.
[This done, he shuts the journal, tucks it in his pocket, and turns to his brace of gun-toting miniature punks. The guns in his holsters are bright red - like his leathers - blocky and custom-made. He draws one, and affixes an extra blocky piece to the barrel while he talks.]
We've got two choices. We can use silencers, or we can spend the last half of the time here fending off pissy alligators. [Pause. Pointedly] I'm a conservationist. And neither of you would look good in gator boots.
((All gun-toting badasses welcome. Fair warning, Roy is in a Mood.))