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xp_logsBackdated to June. Artie asks Doug to take him out to a shooting range. Wherein Artie tries to ask about how Doug's doing, and it ends poorly.
Artie had about run out of the shooting range time he'd bought in bulk, and, without a job, he wasn't exactly made of money. He was also mildly unwilling to ask Wade to shadow him and provide the gun, bullets and shadowing he'd need to use the mansion range. It'd come with a lecture about how someone who looked like a twelve year old didn't need to know about that sort of stuff. So he'd had to be a little more creative in a who he asked, setting up a time to meet Doug at coffee shop near Snow Valley.
"Hey, Doug, want to take me shooting?" Artie asked, signing quickly.
Doug had figured Artie was working up to asking some kind of favor when he set up the coffee shop meeting. Or, well, at the very least the young man had clearly had something on his mind. The request didn't exactly take Doug by surprise, because he was pretty sure of the mental path that had led Artie to both the conclusion that he should learn to shoot, and that Doug would be a good choice to take him. Still. "So what brought this on?" he signed back with a raised eyebrow, interested in seeing how Artie would respond.
"What, you mean other recent events?" Artie was vaguely circumspect - they were in public and hell, it wasn't like you couldn't read what they were saying from a distance. "I figure, with the way my brain works, I could be really good at something like that, once I can get my body to match I'm seeing. Like, good, good."
"And you think it's a skill you're going to need?" Doug's expression was fairly unreadable as he signed. There were times that he wore his thoughts (or heart) out on his sleeve, but he also was almost certainly much better than Artie at being circumspect. And making him work for it.
Artie shrugged briefly, wishing he knew why Doug was really asking and considered a couple of glib answers before settling on the truth. "Yes. I left everyone to die a few days ago because my best option was pretending to be invisible." Although, all things considered, if he ever had to deal with the ... Marauders, they'd called them, again, he'd still run and hide. "I'm not saying I want to become mini-Wade or go out, shoot people, but fuck, how is it a bad thing to want to learn a skill?"
"All right." Artie had been honest, and not given him the glib answer that he might have. That counted for a lot. It meant he'd thought things through. And Doug didn't blame him. Sometimes a gun was all he had to defend himself against more destructive power sets. He could understand that feeling all too well. He indicated the door with a nod of his head. "No time like the present."
Artie gave a small, closed-mouth smile. "Thanks." He left the coffee cup on the table and stood, following Doug. "The Westchester range lets you hire a .22 rifle. I haven't tried anything else yet."
"How about we start with pistols, there, big guy."
At the range, the pair stood in one of the lanes, ear protection on. Communicating in ASL was actually a benefit here, because they could 'talk' without having to shout over the loud reports of guns around them.
"Okay, first thing's first. Gun safety." Artie might have already covered some of this in previous range time, but Doug believed in being conscientious. "Treat every gun like it's loaded." He could think of a number of slight of hand methods to load or unload a gun without an observer realizing. And that was even before considering Artie's power. "Don't point a gun at something you're not ready and willing to shoot at."
Artie nodded seriously (he'd painted glowing freen targets on the Magistrates' foreheads and even if he hadn't been the one holding the gun, they'd still died and followed the rest of Doug's directions very carefully. It was hella different to his sessions at Westchester range, having standing there showing him how and why he was going wrong.
After a while, he turned and asked Doug "You okay?" The guy seemed ...off. Unquantifiably off today.
Doug managed the ASL equivalent of a grunt, which was impressive, given that a grunt was by definition nonverbal. "As okay as can be expected." And if that was cryptic, oh well. He didn't really want to unpack the box of emotions that was his time in Genosha.
Artie lifted the gun, staring through the sights before aiming and shooting. "You're lying,"he replied "and I could show you a dozen pictures of redheads and white knights that would prove it when you punched me in the face so I'll take your word for it. You're *fine*."
Doug's first instinct was to punch Artie in the face, and he didn't need a picture to remember the image Artie was referring to. It was pretty well engraved on his brain. Doug waited for Artie to finish shooting, then took his place at the line, ostensibly to demonstrate a good firing posture, but mostly to vent a bit of that instant spike of frustration, and consider his response a bit more.
When he finished and set his pistol down, the gestures of his response still had that clipped emphasis to them that bespoke anger. "How would you feel if you went down to the tunnels and found a painting Annalee had done." He chose the analogy to intentionally provide the same punch to the gut that he was feeling. "And it was of you - but you as a kid. Some fucking perfect, idealized version of who you used to be - and you will never ever be again. How fine would -you- be?"
Artie took a couple of steps back, clenching his hands into fists before consciously, visibly, calming himself down again. If he'd seen it, given how he felt now, he'd never set foot in the tunnels again. He didn't reply in ASL. It was too expressive and it was too hard to make sure that Doug didn't see how much the words had gotten to him using it. Instead, Artie pulled out his synthesiser and began to type. If it took him a moment longer to get the response out, well, good, because it meant more time to think and carefully translate a reply that he wanted to show as a barrage of images into words.
"I would be upset. I would not like it and I would not be fine," you asshole. "But I think I'm closer to being fine right now than you are. But you don't need to bring Annalee into this. That's been dealt with. Not your business." She'd been committed because of him. He'd gone to the hearing. And she'd given him the best damn life she could when she gave him away.
Doug scowled back at Artie. "So it'd be personal. And none of my business." He flicked his fingers dismissively. "So let my personal shit be -my- business."
Artie turned away, aiming and firing carefully, doing his best to position himself in line with Doug's stance as he did before answering. It gave him time to think before he began to sign. "Fine. Personal is personal and it's none of my goddamn business but I maybe could ask someone next time you seem broken like that. It's not okay." And everything he sort of didn't offically know (and the giant, gaping holes around the bits he did suspect or know) said that people would die if Doug was - if any of the Snow Valley staff were - broken.
"You're right. It is none of your goddamn business. So how about we get back to the reason we're actually here." Doug turned away, the subject clearly over.
Artie had about run out of the shooting range time he'd bought in bulk, and, without a job, he wasn't exactly made of money. He was also mildly unwilling to ask Wade to shadow him and provide the gun, bullets and shadowing he'd need to use the mansion range. It'd come with a lecture about how someone who looked like a twelve year old didn't need to know about that sort of stuff. So he'd had to be a little more creative in a who he asked, setting up a time to meet Doug at coffee shop near Snow Valley.
"Hey, Doug, want to take me shooting?" Artie asked, signing quickly.
Doug had figured Artie was working up to asking some kind of favor when he set up the coffee shop meeting. Or, well, at the very least the young man had clearly had something on his mind. The request didn't exactly take Doug by surprise, because he was pretty sure of the mental path that had led Artie to both the conclusion that he should learn to shoot, and that Doug would be a good choice to take him. Still. "So what brought this on?" he signed back with a raised eyebrow, interested in seeing how Artie would respond.
"What, you mean other recent events?" Artie was vaguely circumspect - they were in public and hell, it wasn't like you couldn't read what they were saying from a distance. "I figure, with the way my brain works, I could be really good at something like that, once I can get my body to match I'm seeing. Like, good, good."
"And you think it's a skill you're going to need?" Doug's expression was fairly unreadable as he signed. There were times that he wore his thoughts (or heart) out on his sleeve, but he also was almost certainly much better than Artie at being circumspect. And making him work for it.
Artie shrugged briefly, wishing he knew why Doug was really asking and considered a couple of glib answers before settling on the truth. "Yes. I left everyone to die a few days ago because my best option was pretending to be invisible." Although, all things considered, if he ever had to deal with the ... Marauders, they'd called them, again, he'd still run and hide. "I'm not saying I want to become mini-Wade or go out, shoot people, but fuck, how is it a bad thing to want to learn a skill?"
"All right." Artie had been honest, and not given him the glib answer that he might have. That counted for a lot. It meant he'd thought things through. And Doug didn't blame him. Sometimes a gun was all he had to defend himself against more destructive power sets. He could understand that feeling all too well. He indicated the door with a nod of his head. "No time like the present."
Artie gave a small, closed-mouth smile. "Thanks." He left the coffee cup on the table and stood, following Doug. "The Westchester range lets you hire a .22 rifle. I haven't tried anything else yet."
"How about we start with pistols, there, big guy."
At the range, the pair stood in one of the lanes, ear protection on. Communicating in ASL was actually a benefit here, because they could 'talk' without having to shout over the loud reports of guns around them.
"Okay, first thing's first. Gun safety." Artie might have already covered some of this in previous range time, but Doug believed in being conscientious. "Treat every gun like it's loaded." He could think of a number of slight of hand methods to load or unload a gun without an observer realizing. And that was even before considering Artie's power. "Don't point a gun at something you're not ready and willing to shoot at."
Artie nodded seriously (he'd painted glowing freen targets on the Magistrates' foreheads and even if he hadn't been the one holding the gun, they'd still died and followed the rest of Doug's directions very carefully. It was hella different to his sessions at Westchester range, having standing there showing him how and why he was going wrong.
After a while, he turned and asked Doug "You okay?" The guy seemed ...off. Unquantifiably off today.
Doug managed the ASL equivalent of a grunt, which was impressive, given that a grunt was by definition nonverbal. "As okay as can be expected." And if that was cryptic, oh well. He didn't really want to unpack the box of emotions that was his time in Genosha.
Artie lifted the gun, staring through the sights before aiming and shooting. "You're lying,"he replied "and I could show you a dozen pictures of redheads and white knights that would prove it when you punched me in the face so I'll take your word for it. You're *fine*."
Doug's first instinct was to punch Artie in the face, and he didn't need a picture to remember the image Artie was referring to. It was pretty well engraved on his brain. Doug waited for Artie to finish shooting, then took his place at the line, ostensibly to demonstrate a good firing posture, but mostly to vent a bit of that instant spike of frustration, and consider his response a bit more.
When he finished and set his pistol down, the gestures of his response still had that clipped emphasis to them that bespoke anger. "How would you feel if you went down to the tunnels and found a painting Annalee had done." He chose the analogy to intentionally provide the same punch to the gut that he was feeling. "And it was of you - but you as a kid. Some fucking perfect, idealized version of who you used to be - and you will never ever be again. How fine would -you- be?"
Artie took a couple of steps back, clenching his hands into fists before consciously, visibly, calming himself down again. If he'd seen it, given how he felt now, he'd never set foot in the tunnels again. He didn't reply in ASL. It was too expressive and it was too hard to make sure that Doug didn't see how much the words had gotten to him using it. Instead, Artie pulled out his synthesiser and began to type. If it took him a moment longer to get the response out, well, good, because it meant more time to think and carefully translate a reply that he wanted to show as a barrage of images into words.
"I would be upset. I would not like it and I would not be fine," you asshole. "But I think I'm closer to being fine right now than you are. But you don't need to bring Annalee into this. That's been dealt with. Not your business." She'd been committed because of him. He'd gone to the hearing. And she'd given him the best damn life she could when she gave him away.
Doug scowled back at Artie. "So it'd be personal. And none of my business." He flicked his fingers dismissively. "So let my personal shit be -my- business."
Artie turned away, aiming and firing carefully, doing his best to position himself in line with Doug's stance as he did before answering. It gave him time to think before he began to sign. "Fine. Personal is personal and it's none of my goddamn business but I maybe could ask someone next time you seem broken like that. It's not okay." And everything he sort of didn't offically know (and the giant, gaping holes around the bits he did suspect or know) said that people would die if Doug was - if any of the Snow Valley staff were - broken.
"You're right. It is none of your goddamn business. So how about we get back to the reason we're actually here." Doug turned away, the subject clearly over.
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