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The range was, as predicted, quiet, yet was actually available rather than closed down, even though the bleary-eyed armorer was clearly not enthusiastic about early risers.
“Sergeant Nowicki,” he recognized you with a yawn, and raised an eyebrow at your outfit, but said nothing else. “You don’t have that shotgun on you?”
“Couldn’t find a place t’ put it.” It was a good idea, though. You’d have to buy a rig for that if you were feeling in a dress-mood anytime in the future.
“The usual, then,” the armorer said, slouching to the back.
You had a smug thought. “Got any ammo in pocket pistol caliber?”
The armorer stared queerly back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah. If you can pay for it.”
“I’ll handle that,” Karel interjected, and he said sidelong to you. “It’d be cheaper than buying you brunch anyways.”
“You’re buying your own breakfast right now with that sort of talk,” you growled. Even if he wasn’t wrong.
The range was an outdoor one, enclosed by embankments with enough of a backstop to halt a cannon shot. Not that you’d be needing anything past a hundred meters, or even entirely within that.
The targets laid out, maybe you were expected to pick up one of the arms of the tanker- the pistol and the carbine, but you wanted to try something out right off the bat. Whenever you moved you felt a derringer, and they were eager to come out…
“Ladies first,” Van Halm said, leaning against the back wall with his thumbs in his sash. He was looking at your eyes- your spectacles. They didn’t let you see <span class="mu-i">that</span> much better… “Say. Do you want to make a wager?”
The response was reflexive. “Deal.”
Karel blinked. “I didn’t even say what it was, yet.”
“It’s for shooting, right?” You flexed your fingers and relaxed your shoulders. “I’ll win.”
“My marksmanship scores are as good as my academics, Anya,” Karel warned, “But fine. If you’re so confident, then you make the stake. I’ll give you proportionately what you offer. Standing shots. The more hits on target with whatever you pick up, the better the score. I’ll choose whatever you don’t, the carbine only half loaded, for fairness’s sake.”
Funny as it would be to bet your entire monthly stipend, Karel Van Halm was too rich for that to be interesting. He’d probably just forfeit as some form of joke.
>What do you want to bet?
Also-
>Choose your weapon. (Includes those on your person)
