[ open ] swift as the coursing rain, with all the force of a great typhoon

[flashbanging]

CHARACTERS: McCree; Koltira; yOU
DATE: First few weeks post-arrival in Perdition's Rest
WARNINGS: somebody might hit somebody else
SUMMARY: TRAINING DAY(s)



MCCREE

[ McCree's set up near the northwestern border of the town. He's constructed a line of targets--six flour sacks tied to poles, facing the expanse of desert beyond--and he's spinning his revolvers in his good hand. He's got a mess of other guns piled on top of a nearby barrel, some borrowed from Riza Hawkeye, some purchased from the local munitions shop. Attached to the barrel is a sign:

SHARPSHOOTING
(OR HAND-TO-HAND)
HERE. ]

KOLTIRA

[ Koltira's on the southern outskirts. Anyone conducting business in the town proper can see him just beyond the edges of the last buildings, giant sword in hand, black coattails fluttering behind him as he paces. He has no targets, and no sign, either. He has the sword in his hand, the knives on his belt, and a scowling expression on his face. ]


[ OOC: TRAINING, with either Koltira or McCree. Obviously, totally separate from one another--I just combined the log so as not to spam the community needlessly. If no actual training was discussed on record, but you'd still like to have your character learn something, feel free to handwave that discussion.

McCree offers: sharpshooting; brawling.

Koltira offers: weapons training; magic if you're capable; hand-to-hand also.

McCree is a friendly and patient teacher.

Koltira is not.

Of course, if you'd just like to bother them while they are holding deadly weapons, that is also fine. Please comment to either subheader below for a custom starter! Please specify what you're here for! ]

Comments

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[flashbanging]

[ McCree knows an evasive answer when he hears one. He raises an eyebrow, half-smiling. ]

Too many to keep track of, huh? That's fine.

[ He tosses his serape back over his shoulder so that Rhys can get a better view of his body armor (and the rippling abs just beneath, of course). ]

Gimme your best shot. Right here.

[ He taps his chestplate. ]

[dbag]

[ dat 6pack tho.

He stares down at McCree's armor — and rippling abs, obvi — for a moment, eyebrow raised; after a second, he brings his gaze back up to McCree's face. ]

Oh, you— want me to. Hit... you? I kind of thought we'd be using a, I don't know, punching bag or something.

[flashbanging]

[ Punching bags are for cowards. ]

Yeah, sure, I'll let you at the flour in a minute.

First, I wanna know what I'm workin' with.

[ He makes a 'come on' gesture with his metal hand. ]

Get a move on.

[dbag]

O...kay. [ This is so much pressure, he's being put on the spot! He takes a moment to step back and shake his arm out — as if it needs to be shaken out, it's a robot arm — although it's mostly just for dramatic effect (and stalling). ] Prepare yourself. For the unstoppable force that is my right hook. [ He's joking. But also hoping it'll turn out to be true.

He winds up without actually hitting him a couple times, hesitating to actually do it; it's just awkward, he's never had someone ask him to hit them before, and it feels unnatural. He finally follows through with it, the metal of his arm and the metal of McCree's armor making an odd clinking sound. It's more forceful than anything he could do with his real arm, but he falters at the last moment and it ends up weaker for it. ]

—Was that okay?

[flashbanging]

[ McCree shuts one eye as Rhys's fist connects with his breastplate. He's not quite staggered by the force--Rhys pulled the punch too much for that--but he feels it, all the same. Not quite a 'god damn' but definitely a 'yeouch'. ]

Yeah, I'd say you got a little somethin' there.

[ He taps his chest, humming. ]

Gonna have me a bruise, I think. Not too bad.

[ He leans forward, opening his eye. ]

Coulda been better, though. How many fights you been in before, did you say? Three or four?

[dbag]

[ Whoa, not too bad, he's practically beaming. Sexy cowboy said he was NOT TOO BAD, incredible. He falters at the question, though, making an uncertain face. ]

Iiii... guess that depends on how you define "in." I mean, I've been in plenty of fights, like. I was present.

[flashbanging]

[ Yeah, that seems about right. McCree laughs, but it's not mocking; it's warm, and very gently amused. ]

I hear you. No offense, pard, but you strike me more as the sorta fella who fights with a keyboard. Not so much with a fist.

[ He leans back against the barrel, shaking his head. ]

Nothin' wrong with that, mind. But in times like these, you got to rely on more basic weapons. Fortunately, [ he gestures to Rhys's robo-hand ] you got a bit of a leg-up. Or, yanno, hand-up. More precisely.

[ Har. ]

Now you just need to show me some killer instinct. Go on. Take out some rage on that target over there. Punch that flour in.

[ He gestures to one of the strung-up, vaguely human shaped collections of flour sacks he's got tied to stakes. MAKE IT RAIN, RHYS. ]

bet you thought you'd seen the last of me...

[dbag]

[ Hand up. Hilarious. He laughs, mostly because he's totally sucking up. McCree is cool!! He wants McCree to like him. Sue him. After he's done being sycophantic, his gaze drifts over to the flour. ]

Killer instinct. [ He doesn't really have that, as he's cut-throat only figuratively, but again, he's trying to seem cool here. ] Yeah, yeah, I so have that. Just let me, um. Warm up. And while I'm doing that, maybe you can show me proper form or whatever. Not that I don't know it, I just... want to make sure you know it. [ Show him how to punch flour like a BADASS!! ]