AWD #314: Pieces of Paper
Pieces of Paper
Summary: Dreyer helps Randy with a bit of paper in the firing range.
Date: 01/05/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None.
Dreyer Randy 
Firing Range
With ten different bays, the firing range can accommodate quite a few shooters with about two dozen spectators or trainees behind them. At 25 yards, the targets can be brought forward or pushed back up to the stops before the inclined plating designed to deflect rounds up. The lighting can be dimmed down to nothing for use with night vision or flashlights, also. A large sign overhead denotes the requirement of both eye and ear protection, as well as the prohibition of all ammunition except rubber or frangible. However, there are no firearms stored here. All firearms and ammunition must be checked out from the Marine Armory in the Security Hub.
Wed Nov 16 2005 (AWD #314)

<FS3> Dreyer rolls Firearms: Good Success.

Combat drops to Aerilon soon. Dreyer is nervous. Extremely so. And the only way to overcome those nerves, per the things taught in training, is to practice. And practice. And practice some more. So while some check gear and others work out, the MP Sergeant is in the firing range. He's grabbed the last lane and has both eye and ear gear on. He's not in his duty clothing, however. Nope. Shift isn't being wasted on this.

Another volley goes off and the cluster is actually not bad at all. For calm conditions. On paper.

The original plan was to get more expeditionary training, more combat skills, but given her natural talents, the doors opened first for advanced IED disposal training. Time passed, and before she knew it, it was the first day of the war. So now, she needs to put in the time, the kind of rote muscle memory building one doesn't build in random battle scenarios but only through mind-numbing focus at the range.

Randy's hair looks as if it was tied back in a rush though a close look at her off duty attire shows no loose strings, hair, or whatnot. "Going to the gun range," she sings high, "Going to the gun range," she lets it drop, "And I'm gonna PEW PEW PEW," she points her empty hand to shoot from the hip, "Toasters all the way hoooome." Her presence sprawls into the room like a discordant symphony cheerfully half-assed in a back alley. "Hey how'd you shoot?" she asks as she walks to the bay where the firing is coming from. She doesn't bother to ask who it is, but a soft smile forms when she sees Dreyer there. "Better than me," she determines.

<FS3> Dreyer rolls Alertness: Good Success.

If it weren't for the peripherals, Dreyer may not have noticed Randy at all. He doesn't bother to remove his protection once the clip is emptied. The button is simply hit to call the target in. It's when it rattles to a stop that he leans back on his heels and looks over to the engineer. Oh. Blink. The mufflers are finally dragged away from his ears to hang around his neck. "What was that?" And yeah, it's not a perfect grouping, but it's decent. A nice collection around the torso region.
You have already given Randy a cookie this week.

"Looks decent," for his position. "All I have to say is if that guy were me and had a gun I'd be dead already," she says in a matter of fact manner. "I'll leave you to it," the other sergeant nods and moves down past Dreyer to the bay just past him. She unholsters the handgun she checked out and checks the safety, the mag, the chamber. After setting the handgun down, she reaches into her back pocket to pull out some brightly colored folded piece of construction paper like kids use for crafts. She assumes he's already put back on his mufflers, so she's happy to go about her business.

"Oh. Thanks?" Dreyer looks a bit… embarrassed, if nothing else. You don't usually expect commentary on your 'work.' Well, some might. He's not one of them. The man is slightly jittery, but he just unclips the paper, sets it aside, and checks over his weapon. Nope, no ear protection back on yet. He's loading in more of the rubber bullets to the service pistol. Can't be, y'know, shooting holes in the ship.

<FS3> Randy rolls Alertness: Failure.

Randy turns so she can see her bunk mate out of her peripheral, the awkwardness of the moment sloughing off of her like it never even penetrated. She unfolds the nearly fluorescent purple paper that is covered with a marker drawing. There's a lot of bleeding but it's an approximation of an oldschool model cylon. It isn't symmetrical. Randy flattens the drawing out a little in her palm before reeeeeaching to attach the drawing. "Frak." The height challenge is something they remedied in training by making her stand on a stool which was /delightful/. "Hey can you pin this up for me?"

Anton is in those years where he shouldn't be so awkward, but he is. Like being in the military and then sequestered on a 'top secret plan(et)' for two years may have stunted him a bit. His early life was so gosh darn average that he just doesn't know quite how to navigate this new landscape. Thankfully, Randy's request is a simple one. "Oh, sure." His sidearm is set down, carefully (safety on) and he sidles over to the engineer's lane, easily reaching over to attach the sheet. "Did… you draw that?"

Randy's social environments have bounced around like a ball. Some flourish gracefully under such conditions. Randy was like a weed, reaching fast in all directions for care, for nutrients. She smiles and moves out of Dreyer's way while handing the man the drawing. "Me?" she points to herself. "That?" her finger waves at the drawing. "No. A kid at ANVIL did. Super talented." She chuckles a little as she turns more to fully face Anton, "You know when he gave it to me, he was so embarrassed about the paper."

"Oh." Anton looks a bit embarrassed then as he gets the paper properly clipped into place, trying to secure the top edge firmly enough to lend to unfurling the rest. "You should put it up in your bunk. Good, uh, bit of…" Dreyer's then at a loss of words, so he just waves absently at it as he steps back. "Something. I dunno." Shoulders fall as the man deflates a bit, but he returns to his own lane. "If it was a kid, I guess… yeah, I could see why. That's the sort of thing a kid would fret over."

<FS3> Randy rolls Awareness: Success.

There's only so much embarrassment a guy can get away with, even around Randy, who has proven already how good she is at picking up on it. The woman doesn't rush to fill the small gap of silence. She tries to give him his space to express himself, annnd to summon some patience which now seems so much more difficult since she's aware of Dreyer's little edges. "He was 12," she states as she loads her gun. "Do you think you could hit it square between the eyes in one shot? I don't want it to look like someone tore a half inch hole in it or get muzzle flare on it."

At the very least, Dreyer's awkward just is. There's no sense of him putting on airs in an attempt to gain attention or to have his ego soothed. He just hits these walls that he's uncertain how to breech. Does he go over? Under? Around? Often there's a door that he's just too dense to see. The man is picking back up his sidearm when Randy makes the request and he glances over towards her. "Uh." A lean around the partition to squint at the paper. "Yeah, probably. I mean, I'd put it half-distance just to be sure, though."

It takes Randy a moment to get used to the presence of Dreyer's awkwardness, but the cleanness of it, and the way it disipates from his personality after solving the problem and getting to truck on makes it easier for her to adjust more quickly. Something about it warms Randy's spirits and it's hard to be awkward yourself in those moments. "If you could? Just real quick? I'm going to send it back to him and get him to draw the perp/hero," she twists her hand back and forth, "who did it. Get him to work off fake testimony, stuff like that…" she draws in a deep breath and lets out the sigh. "You just. You meet people. These people need people and they choose you. Am I making any sense?"

It's the sign of someone who has spent most of their life being adequate. Not good enough to receive attention or accolades, but not bad enough to warrant any attention for mistakes or underperformance. It can leave someone in a weird sort of middle land at times. Really, some of his promotions must have come from 'Anyone see a reason not to? No. Eh, go ahead.' after some higher-up came across his name on a list. He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it spiked at odd angles. The sidearm is captured and he rejoins Randy proper in her lane. "I- I guess. Someone said… something similar to me the other day."

Intuition is more Randy's forte than psychoanalysis. It's a more nuanced form of instinct, more often a quieter voice or a plaintive wail than a war cry or a shout but it's not something the engineer has mastered yet. Thankfully one doesn't need to read into minds, the past, or the future to pick up on the fact that they are both the same rank. "Oh? Who?" She files the observation of rank away for later. She punches the button with her small fist till it's half out, leaning a little. Then she steps back to give him clearance and keeps her hands on her mufflers to lift them up when she needs them.

<FS3> Dreyer rolls Firearms+1: Good Success.

"Ah, Corporal Rakes. She's a JTAC. She's going to be training me in wirelo." Cross-training, for an MP. Not unheard of, but uncommon. Then again, in these times, there will likely be more of it. People die. Better to have someone ready to move into place than be at a loss while training someone new. Dreyer steps up to the line, tugging his ear protection back into place as he lifts his sidearm. The man takes a moment before getting a shot off. It may not be exactly dead center, but it's in the head region of the 'Cylon' and the paper doesn't tear in an upsetting sort of way. He lowers the weapon, flicks on the safety, and drags off the 'muffs. "You could always give him a spent round with it, too, as a souvenir." Kobol knows they have plenty of those.

"Rakes yeah. A JTAC? Huh," Randy lifts the cups up to her ears as she falls into a little bit of a stare. Her posture falls slack as Dreyer lines up his shot, the sound of which jolts her out of it all. She pulls her ear muffs down and lets them hang from her neck. "Yeah. That's a great idea…So you know the Corporal well?"

The button is hit to bring the paper back in and Dreyer sets his pistol down as he reaches up to unclip it. No need for Randy to flail about a second time. "Well? Ah, no, not really." He carefully hands the sheet over. "We really just began talking. There's just… I guess…" His brow furrows. It all made so much more sense the other night. "We each bring something to the table?"

"Thanks," Randy says as she steps forward, flashing a grin up in his direction. Her brow furrows and her head tilts slowly at Dreyer's fumbling, slowly, slowly. "Oh. Well that's good," the Aquarian says with a vague nod. "I mean. I'm not sure what table you're referring to, metaphorically speaking, but that sounds great." There's a warmth in her tone, but she leaves it at that. "I should really get some practice in though." There isn't much socializing that can be done while shooting, well not while hyperfocusing and really dialing in. It's a do it one hundred percent or get nothing done sort of sport.

"Just… she can train me in wirelo and I can… well, I'm not entirely sure on that. Something about being a friend, but I would have done that anyway." The term for this would be 'dense.' Men are quite good at that one. Dreyer gives a quick nod and retreats to his own lane, grabbing a fresh target… but he pauses and carries it over to Randy's, instead, to quickly pin it up. "There." And then back to his own, ear protection on, and back to shooting.

<FS3> Randy rolls Firearms: Great Success.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Randy shakes her head as if clearing out misdirection clinging from a moment before. "Oh. Thanks!" She lifts her 'muffs onto her head and pulls down the eye protection before flicking the safety and firing in quick but controlled succession. She hits most in the center of the chest in a tight grouping, but saves one for the crotch. It doesn't occur to her that this totally makes before look like some can-you-hit-a-target-for-me-mr-marine flirtfest. Instead, she gets to work, rinse and repeat.

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