Mar 21 14:56:12 108 PA
From Chronicles
It's an awful good day to be inside, and a real terrible one to invite someone to come on out of the city gates to get to the range. Yet despite the freezing, uncooperative weather, this is when Sebastien asked little Isabeau to meet him at the firing range. He shivers at the indoor range shack, a little box next to him, huddled about a thermos that smells faintly of tea. He's sipping direct from the container, the animal, eyeing the door and making small talk with the range officer behind the counter.
The weather is but one obstacle to overcome. With a cloak wrapped about her shoulders, the slender redheaded woman makes her way towards the range. She carries with her the metal case that she keeps her weapons in, both of them held inside it. She hasn't necessarily come to terms with them, but she's at least somewhat better about them. She approaches the range, taking a moment to look it over briefly before her blue-eyed gaze settles on Sebastien. A hint of a smile touches her lips, and she lifts her right hand to adjust the hood of her cloak, then closes the remaining distance to reach the range. "Good day, Sebastien," Isabeau offers by way of greeting, inclining her head towards him.
"Not a lot good about it yet," Sebastien points out, frowning at the door. "Sooner or later that sky will need part, open up, and let the sun warm the earth." He lifts the case beside him, musing, "Else we're in a lot of trouble. Again. You won't need your guns, today. I'm borrowing a trainer." He lifts his case, and points at the indoor range, before glancing back at the rangemaster. "Close your mouth!" he chastises, and grins. "Oui, it's a woman with a gun. Never seen one of those before?" He winks, and steps out to direct Isabeau back towards the range. "Last I was there, it was only laser pistols, so no need for ear protection. Get a set of goggles on your way in."
Isabeau lifts one of her shoulders in a faint shrug, a hint of a smile touching her lips. "There are always good things to be found, it is merely a matter of looking," she muses, her tone holding a thoughtful cast to it. She turns her attention away from him to look to the sky, studying it for a lingering moment, and then she brings her gaze back to him. "It either will or it won't, but the days will still continue to pass in their same order and way," she says thoughtfully, a hint of a smile touching her lips. She looks to the rangemaster, one of her eyebrows quirking upwards, but then looks back to Sebastien again. "I would wish you had mentioned that sooner, so that I could have left them home instead of bringing them," Isabeau comments, giving a small nod to him. She steps inside, getting a set of goggles along the way.
Sebastien grins at Isabeau, and snags a pair of goggles himself. "And what if you were accosted on your way here?" he wonders. "You should get used to them. Perhaps in a holster, and not in a case..?" He follows along, directing the redhead down the line towards an empty stall. "Before we begin," he says softly, so as to not embarass her in front of the other shooters, "Recite for me the four rules."
"If I were accosted on the way here, the person would have had things other than guns to be concerned with," she muses, then lifts one of her shoulders in a faint shrug. She's not going into detail, it would seem. Isabeau follows him down towards an empty stall. "If I wear them and do not know how to use them, then what good are they serving me? They will not deter one who is determined to harm me," she says thoughtfully. Her blue eyes narrow slightly at the unexpected question, and she gives a small nod. "The first is to always treat the weapon as though it is loaded. The second is to never point it at something that you do not intend to shoot. The third is to keep your finger off the trigger until you're looking at the target, keep your finger on either the slide or the trigger guard," she says softly, her blue eyed gaze holding to him. "And the last is to be sure of your target and what is behind it," she adds, then gives a small nod.
Sebastien nods, smiling at that, and says simply, "Good girl." He reaches for his weapons case then, opening the plastic latch to reveal a carbon copy of her Wilk's Backup, with a long e-clip sitting beside it. "Ignore the clip for now," he instructs, "and pick up the pistol. Hold it only in your right hand -- you are right handed, yes?" He peers at Isabeau, and reaches to adjust her grip just a touch, raising it snug against the pistol's receiver. "Now, your thumb should ride high, against the safety," he lifts and places her thumb in the appropriate place, "and your ... good. Finger outside the trigger guard. Have you found a comfortable index point?"
Isabeau raises an eyebrow slightly, and then she inclines her head towards him, a bit of a blush rising to lay claim to her cheeks. She glances to the weapon case that he carries, and then sets her own case aside so that it'll be out of the way. At his question, she lightly shakes her head. "I am left-handed, actually," she replies, a hint of a smile touching her lips. As instructed, though, she picks up the pistol and holds it in her right hand, finger outside the trigger guard and not on the trigger, and she at least seems as though she's handled her own weapon rather than simply look at it in the case. She accepts the repositioning of her thumb, then lifts one of her shoulders in a faint shrug. "It is comfortable enough, and I suppose it will grow more so with time," she says, a smile touching at the corners of her lips.
Sebastien chides softly, "Well then, go on and change hands!" He makes a 'shoo' motion and shakes his head, grinning, before saying, "Now once you get your *left* hand situated, look at the right side of that grip. See all that black plastic? I would like you to cover it up with your right hand. Put the heel of your hand here..." he places it over the exposed grip, "and wrap your fingers over your left hand. Your thumbs will line up and point towards the target -- relax!" He grins, and leans away from Isabeau to peer into her blue eyes with his own. "You want your left hand looser, your right hand tighter, and you want to push towards the target with your lefthand. Pull back towards yourself with your right. Try to get a feel for that huge pistol of yours."
Isabeau laughs lightly when he bids her to change hands, and she gives a small nod before doing so. This way, she seems to be more comfortable, at least, as it's likely the way she's been accustomizing herself to holding the weapon. She takes a look at the black plastic he's indicated, and then she gives a small nod before lifting her right hand to attempt to cover it. Following his instructions, though relaxing is the hardest one! She shifts her grip slightly to accomodate what she's been told, right hand tighter and left looser, and she gives a small nod. It's a weight that she's unfamiliar with, but at least she seems more comfortable than the first time.
Sebastien reaches under Isabeau's hands to gently lift that pistol before her face, and points at the front sight. "This is where you focus," he points out. "Now, you want to line the top of the front sight up with the top of the rear sight. So long as your focus stays on the front sight, it will all stay nice and even and keep itself aligned. Your target will be blurry, downrange. You don't look at the target, you look at the front sight. Now, very cautiously, you put your trigger finger inside the guard, and without squeezing any other fingers, bring it back against the trigger until you feel a click."
Isabeau turns her head to look at him when he moves her hands to make her lift the pistol, and then she gives a small nod. "Right," she says, giving a small nod. She turns her attention to the pistol that she holds up, then, looking down the range and towards the target. She does listen, however, and she gives another little nod before shifting her focus to the front sight. Her brow furrows a little bit, and she shifts her hands slightly to be able to fit her finger inside the trigger guard. Wary of the weapon, but still willing to learn to use it, it would seem. It perhaps seems as though she isn't about to do as she'd been told, but she does obey, pulling the trigger until she feels the click.
And nary a blessed thing happens. No magazine! Sebastien replies, "Good! But did you see the front end of your pistol dip just a bit there at the end?" He winks. "At five years, it's not so big a deal, but at fifty, it puts your shot in the dirt, and at a hundred? Your shot has to be rock solid, and preferably braced on something. But as a start? Very good." He directs, "Try that a few times more. Smooth, just keep pulling the trigger back in one motion, don't hesitate when you feel the rough edge of the weapon triggering. Pull right on through. Focus on keeping your front sight from moving." He dips a touch to retrieve that magazine, and then hands it to her. "What you're carrying is a practice weapon. It produces just enough power to burn holes in paper. It is still a formidable weapon, and I would not want it pointed at me, but there's no reason to be afraid of it. Try to hit the target with a laser blast."
No magazine being in the weapon isn't a bad thing. She's never actually pulled the trigger on a weapon before, until now. She lets out the breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding, then looks sidelong to him. She doesn't say anything, but she listens, and she gives a small nod before her gaze turns back to the front sight. This time, she concentrates more on it not dipping, and she tries her best to follow the instructions she's been given. Pulling the trigger straight through, trying to keep it smooth, and trying not to let the sight fall at all. It's not easy keeping so many things in mind all at once. "Practice weapons can still be dangerous, though," she points out, raising an eyebrow slightly. As the magazine is offered to her, she frees her right hand from the weapon, lowering it and accepting the magazine to be able to load it carefully. She replaces her hands where they're supposed to go, and she lifts the weapon again, aiming at the target.
Sebastien grins. "Only if you point them at;" and he reaches up, a hand on Isabeau's pistol, pointing it forward again, "people. When you turn, the natural tendency is to bring the pistol around with you. For a while, let's put it down when you turn about to talk to me." He flashes her a smile, and points downrange. The first shot singes the target, high and right. "Good! Don't worry about bringing it to the bullseye, just focus on doing the same thing consistently." The target is only about fifteen feet away. The second shot is on the edge of the target, off to the far right, and Sebastien says, "You're squeezing with all of your fingers when you pull the trigger. Another natural reaction, but one you must tame. Slow down, and just pull straight front to back." As the next shot goes high, he notes, "Remember, your left hand should be pressing forward, and your right pulling back. Balance." By the time she's done, he eyes the target and chuckles. "It's really not as bad as you think. They're high and right, but they're *all* high and right. That's quite a bit easier to fix than if they were everywhere. Are you focusing on the front sight, or the target? Be honest now." He looks at her with a knowing grin that says he knows she's cheating.
"Ah... right. Not at people. Floor, or the target, or set down," she affirms, giving a small nod. Of course, it likely doesn't help that each shot after the first ends up further away from the bullseye. Frustrating, that is, and a hint of temper simmers, though it's aimed at herself for not improving. She expects more from herself. She takes a deep breath, attempting to locate that elusive place of calm that resides within herself. She shifts her hands a little bit, trying to maintain the push-pull between the two, which feels strange to her still. She blinks a little, looks sheepish, then looks to the target for a moment before softly clearing her throat. "I was looking at the front sight... but... well... I think I maybe kind of strayed a little bit," she says, all innocent like, a blush creeping to her cheeks. Oops?
Sebastien laughs softly, and notes, "Now, the front sight? It is a valuable tool. You will learn to use it well. So long as you focus on it, the eye will naturally keep the pistol in alignment. You don't need to remember to do it. And this is how you must practice, so that the muscles remember the pistol in the right direction. Because when the time comes that someone is ten feet from you and closing? I guarantee you won't see that sight, and you want the pistol lined up by reflex and muscle memory. So. Give it another try."
Isabeau looks to him, and she lowers the weapon, aiming it to the ground. Infinitely better than aiming it at Sebastien by accident. "At first I'll have to remind myself, but with practice, I expect it will get better," she says softly, a small smile touching her lips. When instructed to do so, she lifts the weapon again, aiming it at the sight and trying to maintain the push-pull of her hands. She takes a deep breath, letting it out briefly and just finding the calmness within herself before she slips her finger inside the trigger guard. She gives a small nod, then tries to remember what he's told her as she pulls the trigger for another few rounds, trying to keep her focus on the front sight.
"Alright," Sebastien finally says, calling a halt to the shotgun-like pattern of burn holes all over (and around) the target. "Something is wrong. Let's try something new. You moved naturally to a modified weaver stance. It's the natural shooting position for most, but obviously is not working for you. So, square up with the target. Get your feet shoulder-width apart, your right foot just a little in front of your left. This is less stable for some, but I think it may work well for you. Plus it puts your thickest body armor, on your chest, towards the target." He looks up at Isabeau, noting with a smirk, "And that counts when the target is shooting back."
When the halt is called for, Isabeau lowers the weapon so it's pointing to the ground, then turns her head to look to him. She's not impressed with the results, if the furrow of her brow is any indication on things. She's singed pretty much everything except the target. She shifts her weight between her feet, listening to him, and then she gives a small nod before adopting the stance that he's suggested. Feet shoulder width apart, right foot slightly forward of the left. Left hand looser, right hand tighter -- one pushing, one pulling. Only once she's got her hands resituated does she lift the weapon again, aiming to the target. "I think I'm going to worry about me shooting first rather than that others could be shooting back at me," she says softly, frowning slightly. It's another thing that she doesn't need to be worrying about right now. Once she's taken up that new stance, she stays that way for a lingering moment before actually pulling the trigger to fire off any shots.
Sebastien clucks his tongue, and notes, "You're getting better! We'll have to keep it up, you know. And once you're good at hitting an unmoving target, with a low heart rate and no adrenaline..?" He smirks. "You can see where this is going. But don't worry, it's a good start." He reaches up to pat the woman on the shoulder, giving that a little squeeze, while reaching to key the target holder to return to them, so he can install a fresh one. Then running it back out the paltry five meters, he steps back and barks, "Again!"
