castlewhitespire | the psl that will never die;

It's a pretty simple setup, and Reggie can't really help but be reminded of his father and the BB gun he got. Cans, an old car frame to set them on, a gun to shoot. The only real difference is that they're in the Nevada sun and not a Vault--Dan is next to him, too, and instead of a BB gun it's one of his own pistols.

"I know how to shoot," he says for what feels like the umpteenth time, though he's well aware that he's terrible at it. His face twists into a frown, glancing up at the courier, displeased but doing it anyway. Dan had insisted he'd have to 'learn how to handle a gun,' because apparently if he was going to be tagging along and following him around while on his little quest, he needed to take care of himself better.

He's got Dan for the survival aspect of this whole thing, but Reggie can see the point the other's trying to make. Plus, he doesn't enjoy making Dan upset. Quite the opposite--he lives for those moments where Dan actually smiles, however few and far between it is. Those moments are precious to him, something he always keeps close to his heart.

He lines up his shot, jaw clenching as he does so, squinting as he aims--

--and promptly lowers the gun.

"Why don't I teach you how to hack into old consoles, huh? That's a vital skill, too, yanno."

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Dan has his own memories, too, of following Sunny around after waking up in the doctor's house, barely able to remember his own name and little else besides. She'd taken him to a setup much like this one, but unlike the young man complaining beside him, he had known how to shoot... and wasn't terrible at it.

He tips his head towards Reggie and gives him a sidelong look, raising both eyebrows.

"Kid, yer gonna learn this shit. 'm sick a' always needin' ta save yer ass." It was an exaggeration, but not an entirely inaccurate one. He didn't agree to let Reggie follow him around just to be watching both of their backs all the damn time. A faint gesture goes out towards the 'targets' in front of them, and there's the faintest tilt of the corner of his mouth as the younger man starts to line the shot up.

And then...

"Reginald." Kid, seriously? Dan pinches the bridge of his nose. "Shoot the fuckin' cans. We can talk tech later."

Reg's hand grips the gun a little too hard--not the trigger, thankfully--and he inhales at the full name. His full name always means trouble, since the only person to really call him Reginald consistently had been his dad, and Dan's--

--Mmmm, yeah, he's not in the mood to try to figure out whatever conflicting emotions he gets when he looks at Dan. He's not going to even open that can of worms, no sir, not now, it doesn't matter than Dan's rough, annoyed voice is one of the most weirdly soothing things he's ever heard.

"I'm holding you to that tech talk," he promises. "You're going to help me override the next Eyebot that wanders around--do you have those, here?" He hasn't seen one in a while. One tiny, furitive glance over at his friend and he knows he's starting to push his luck, so he sighs.

He's not a fan of being bad at things, even if he's bad at a lot. Tech, medicine, science--those are his wheelhouses. Anything else's disappointment, Reggie hates disappointment most of all. He'll line his shot up, fire--

--hey, it's a marked improvement from how he started out. He hits the stand, not the bottle, but it's close. His grin is a mile wide, and he may or may not half-hop.

Edited 2022-03-23 18:13 (UTC)

"Yeah, yeah, we got those."

Unfortunately-- unfortunately they do have those, floating around the place burbling their propoganda and making themselves very fine moving targets for practice when Dan happens to be in the mood to take potshots at them. It's only when they don't go down in one hit that he has a problem - those lasers they have mounted to them can pack a punch when you draw their attention.

He watches in silence, though, while Reggie lines up his shot. Already he can see he's going to miss, but he stays quiet and lets him fail... and even so, the younger man seems pleased by the result. Enough so that Dan even cracks a half-smile as he shakes his head and claps him on the back.

"Better. A'right, lemme show you where you went wrong." No judgement. It's not about that. He nudges Reggie's arm to indicate that he needs to lift the rifle again and then carefully guides the positioning of his hands and arms, leaned in close to him. "Yer holdin' everythin' in too close. Don't be scared a' it. When you pull the trigger, take yer time. Got it?"

He loves that smile Dan sometimes does, the little quirk of his lips. It's rare the other smiles, and Reggie doesn't think he's ever seen Dan grin grin, so he'll take this. It's nice, little moments where Dan seems less like the's a whole world on his shoulders and more like.... Well, an actual, factual human.

Reggie's own smile fades, temporarily lost as he's overcome by the urge to lean over and kiss the other man. He doesn't--not yet--but it's there.

"If something's coming at me, how can I take my time?" It's an honest question, even if he understands what Dan's saying. He promises himself that if he gets this shot he can reward himself with that kiss he suddenly wants. Someone's got to force the other guy to be a little more carefree, might as well be him.

There's a good deal in Dan's past that he hasn't told Reginald about yet, in part because it's a lot to think about and in part because that bullet to the head courtesy of Benny blew several holes in his memory and he's not entirely sure if he remembers everything and if what he can remember is even correct.

He does, however, remember enough to know that he doesn't want to go looking for more information just yet. They have enough on their plates without digging up those particular skeletons.

"Think of it this way. Would you rather make five shots that miss, or one shot that doesn't?" He glances the younger man's way with one eyebrow twitched upwards. "Take your time, breathe, anticipate, then fire." Then he pats his hand against the back of Reggie's shoulder and shifts back to give him room.

"Try again."

Reggie nods. He’s always going to be thankful for this, for the training that isn’t rad roaches and bb guns. For Dan saving him God knows how many times–even if Reggie’s hacking skills have definitely come in handy for both of them, too.

The exchange helps, too: eyebot after this. Something to help his ego, because this shooting thing really is hard. So he does what Dan says. He takes his time, inhales, exhales, readies himself, makes sure his posture is proper, and–

–the bullet goes through, sinking its teeth into its target with precision, and Reggie immediately drops the gun to start cheering as loudly as possible.

the psl that will never die;

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