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[ka_sera_sera]

[All you get is a long beeeeeep. Hope you know who you're calling.]

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[ka_sera_sera]

"Mm?" The tone makes him look up to eye her more directly, briefly curious. "I know it's quicker, in a city like this, to simply buy what I need." Shrugging, he looks down to carefully straighten what may end up being a sleeve. "But it's good to feel a little more productive. If only for a while."

[proudofwhatiam]

"Oh, no, I agree." She didn't mean to poke fun; it just seems a rather delicate art for a man like him. (Though grizzled old sailors sew, too, don't they? Well, Mr. Deschain specifically didn't seem the type, then.) Keeping her gaze on her revolver, she asks, "What is it you're making?"

[ka_sera_sera]

"A jacket. Didn't think the natives would thank me for making a firepit in the middle of their city, like for this." He plucks at his shirt, then looks up at her hands a moment, checking her progress. "It's been a while since I've worked with fabric like this, but it'll serve."

[proudofwhatiam]

"I'm sure it'll be lovely," she answers, glancing up from the screw she's unscrewing. It looks fine to her, anyway--though, to be fair, it's essentially a pile of fabric at the moment. "And there are fire pits in the park, you know." That's where she learned about s'mores.

[ka_sera_sera]

That gets her a quiet snort and a brief wry look. "No, it won't. Lovely'll always be beyond me. But it'll work."

The latter he thinks over a moment, then shakes his head. "It would require taking over one of the pits for at least a couple days. And skinning game, as I recall, has never been too popular in public parks." He smiles a little. "I don't need clothes quite that badly."

[proudofwhatiam]

"Perhaps you could find something ready-made in the shops. I've been surprised at everything I've been able to fi--oh, blast." She's frowning at the revolver, completely stuck. "I've forgotten the next step."

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland raises his eyebrows at her, then looks back down and continues to sew. "What do you know of how your gun works? What did you learn from taking it apart before?"

[proudofwhatiam]

Evy considers this, casting her eyes back down to the revolver. Her exclamation was more for herself than for him, but of course, she said it in front of him. Which is just a bit embarrassing, considering the way he looked at her after. "That, odds are I'm meant to be unscrewing something," she mutters.

[ka_sera_sera]

One corner of his lips twitch. She's probably right, but he isn't going to say it. Nor is he going to look up and see what part she's stuck on, though the temptation's there. It's for her to figure out, and best if he makes that clear by showing no interest at all. "For all their small parts, most reliable weapons have only a few main sections."

He tugs at a thread, squints at it, sighs quietly, then continues the little lecture. "In ones like ours, it's usually the grip, the hammer, the cylinder, the trigger, and the barrel. The hammer and the trigger work most closely together, but most sections have a limited number of parts that'll actually move if you try to remove them."

[proudofwhatiam]

"Well, I've got the grip done." And she's pretty sure she can tell the difference between the other bits she's mentioned. After a good deal more staring, she starts unscrewing again. "I think this one is it..."

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland gives her an assessing sort of look, the kind of look that can only really be pulled off if you've got glasses to peer over. Then, of course, his apparent attention goes back to the sleeve of his future-jacket. If she ends up putting it back together and it no longer works he can fix it, but he'd really rather not. Best for her own confidence if she does it herself, no matter how long it takes. Cort's voice echoes in his mind, those old, familiar words, and he snorts to himself, smiling a little.

[proudofwhatiam]

Evy tries not to notice how he's looking at her--this, too, is a test, she thinks--and goes back to work. And finally, finally, she's got things back together the way she found them, so far as she can tell. She had to double back more than once in the process, and if she swore under her breath on her way to this point, hopefully it went unnoticed.

This time, she doesn't offer the revolver to Mr. Deschain. She just pulls the trigger, feeling the way everything it moves beneath her finger, and gives it a sharp lookover. "I think that's it."

[ka_sera_sera]

One thing Evelyn will be more likely to learn the longer she agrees to be taught by Roland - if you think something might be a test, it is. If you don't think it's a test, it probably still is. Muttered swearing will be politely ignored, but it will also be taken as encouragement. A little emotion means she cares, which means she'll be even more likely to stick with it.

Finally, Roland lets himself look up directly at her. He lets himself smile, too, a little warm, a little proud. "I think so, too. It certainly sounded right." He sticks the needle securely back into the fabric, starting to bundle it up. "We can test it with a shot, if you like, let you get used to the feel of it. But only a few times. Can't go very far with it without more of those bullets."

[proudofwhatiam]

Evy likes to think of herself as the sort of person who doesn't swear, which makes it all the more annoying when she ends up slipping in front of someone else. But it's all water under the bridge at this point, now that she's put the revolver back together. She beams back at Mr. Deschain and nods. "I suppose I ought to try firing the thing."

[ka_sera_sera]

"Mm." He stands, nodding at the bullets still sitting on the table. "Load it and we'll head to the range." All the tools go back in the box, which he'll put where he found it as they pass on their way outside. Then he closes its lid and watches her expectantly. It's another test, of course, if a small one. Exposing the cylinder and loading it is simple enough for someone who's calm. It's in the midst of battle that loading it becomes a real test. He thinks idly back, wondering if he'll use the same tactics on her that were used with him. She may not have the temperament for it, but that may not matter. She'll face those conditions soon enough; probably better she face them under controlled conditions.

For a moment, Roland's face might show some genuine regret. There's a reason, he knows, why Cort never made any effort to be friendly with the children under his care. Maybe more than one. But there's nothing for it, and that's in the future anyway. She'll load it, there'll be a few shots, and as far as today's concerned that'll probably be all.

[proudofwhatiam]

Evy loads the gun, carefully settling each bullet into its place, then grabs the revolver case and her handbag. She's being rather delicate about it, she knows--as earlier, she finds herself comparing her movements to Rick's--but since bullets are still new to her, she's certainly not going to rush things.

"You'll have to lead the way," she says, standing. "This is the first time I've ever been here, actually."

[ka_sera_sera]

"The layout's not too difficult," he says, picking up the toolbox and making his way out. "Even those used to more simple buildings seem to figure it out quickly enough." There's a brief detour to put it away and then they're headed outside. It's not sunny, but it's not nearly as cold as Asgard can get, and he doesn't really mind having to set his jacket-that-will-be against the wall instead of wearing it.

Roland studies the distance to the targets, then walks a little closer. "Don't shoot yet," he says, looking back at her. "Just come next to me and aim." Before he shows her how to stand, he wants to see which posture she most comfortably falls into.

[proudofwhatiam]

Evy follows him quietly, listening--but she hesitates a moment at his next direction. This one is a test that begs failure; she has only the vaguest idea how one stands while holding a gun.

Don't be silly, she tells herself. Just do as you're asked. After she's walked towards him, standing with her feet as they'd normally be, she tries to call back the night the Medjai attacked Hamunaptra. What would she have done if she'd had a revolver instead of that shotgun of Rick's? She holds the gun up, one-handed, arm only partially extended, and aims. Her eyes flick briefly over to Mr. Deschain, trying to gauge whether she's at least gotten close.

[ka_sera_sera]

"There's more than one stance you can take while shooting. But for now, I think..." He takes a step forward, getting an idea of her posture from more than one angle. Since this is what's natural for her, there's one in particular that might be best to start with. "Feet spread a little more. Only a little. Right in front. Knees slightly bent. Weight on the balls of your feet."

His gaze travels up, over her torso and hands. "Shoulders relaxed, if you can, and lean a little forward. Hands..." Maybe best to demonstrate this one. Roland draws with his left, then transfers it to his right and quickly brings up the other again to keep the heavy gun from falling out of his half-grip. It's not strange to hold it in his right hand again. If anything, it's strange holding it in a two handed grip like this, but this too is probably the best thing for her to learn. "Your off-hand covering the other, like so. Both arms mostly straight." He raises the gun, straightening his arms slowly so she'll see what he means. "Keep the gun near the center of your chest, and your finger off the trigger."

[proudofwhatiam]

Test failed, it seems--or, at least, scraped by with a great deal of room for improvement. Well, she could have guessed as much. Now it's time to watch him for corrections.

Evy moves into a slightly wider stance, trying to judge just how much weight on the balls of her feet is necessary; she feels a bit like she's getting ready to pounce on something, standing like this. Arms up, straightened out some, and she's fairly certain she's got the stance he's described. The business of aiming seems a little easier from this position--like the gun's pointed right down her sight-line. "Like this?"

[ka_sera_sera]

He switches hands again, still not as smooth about it as he'd like, and holsters his own gun to study hers. "Aye. Notice the tab at the top of your muzzle. The front sight. Line it up with the notch at the back, nearer your hand. It should look as close to the middle as you can get it. Try not to breathe in while you aim, but don't worry about that too much yet."

Roland walks around behind her, the better to watch her do it. "For now, only check there's nothing between you and your target, nor anywhere behind it. Pull the hammer down with your thumb, then shoot. Pay attention to how it feels, any part of your stance that feels uncomfortable. Try to take most of the recoil in your elbows." There's really no way to describe how it feels, though, without actually doing it.

[proudofwhatiam]

The last time Evy shot a gun, she ended up flat on her back in the sand, the wind knocked out of her. And while she knows that won't happen this time, it means she tenses noticeably as she pulls the trigger, teeth gritted against the thought of recoil.

It's still got a good kick, by her standards--Evy's not used to the sensation, and she reacts more than she likely will after some practice. Eyes wide, she peers out at the target. Not a bullseye by any stretch of the imagination, but at least she hit it.

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland eyes the target, but only briefly. He's not too concerned with that yet. "Not bad for a first shot. How did it feel?"

[proudofwhatiam]

Evy shrugs, moving her finger away from the trigger again. "The last time I fired a shot, it knocked me over." Best that he knows her frame of reference here--the comparison is how she thinks of it. "This was...better." She's still on her feet.

[ka_sera_sera]

"Good. It'll get easier with practice." He moves back to the wall again, picking up his bundle of fabric. "Which itself will come once we have more bullets. I don't suppose the gods'd give you more to go with the gun they gave you?"

He doesn't really expect so. Don't the followers of the Man Jesus have a saying for it? God helps those who helps themselves, or something similar. No matter. "The metal itself shouldn't be too hard. It's the gunpowder I'm not sure of. Might be able to make some, if I can find enough of the ingredients..." He frowns a little, thinking on it.