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<blockquote data-quote="Shayuri" data-source="post: 6677187" data-attributes="member: 4936">Death Otter made a beeline for the tiered shelves with the handguns on them and muttered to herself as she went down the line.She picked up one of the giant Desert Eagle hand cannons at first, but when she found she could barely keep the barrel steady with one hand, let alone deal with the kick, she set it back down. For several minutes she seemed to dither between the Barretta and the Glock 20, but finally went with the superior weaponcraft of the second.Otter had some bad habits to unlearn. She habitually sighted with one eye shut, down the iron. Her grip needed work. The Glock was still arguably too much gun for her, but she refused to get a smaller one. And after blowing a couple of magazines, it became clear she wasn't a bad shot at all. A lot of beginner flubs, like flinching or over-compensating, she just didn't do. It seemed this wasn't her first time shooting, though it was equally clear she hadn't had formal training or lessons before either.And, surprisingly, there wasn't a lot of horseplay or goofing around from her on the range. She still laughed and pointed when other folks messed up, but she didn't mess around with the guns themselves. It was, perhaps, good to know something on the planet had her respect.&quot;Is it Cowboy Jack's RiiiiiiicoCHET Barbecue?&quot; Otter wanted to know as the lesson concluded. &quot;Because that would be awesome. It's extra-bold.&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Shayuri, post: 6677187, member: 4936"] Death Otter made a beeline for the tiered shelves with the handguns on them and muttered to herself as she went down the line. She picked up one of the giant Desert Eagle hand cannons at first, but when she found she could barely keep the barrel steady with one hand, let alone deal with the kick, she set it back down. For several minutes she seemed to dither between the Barretta and the Glock 20, but finally went with the superior weaponcraft of the second. Otter had some bad habits to unlearn. She habitually sighted with one eye shut, down the iron. Her grip needed work. The Glock was still arguably too much gun for her, but she refused to get a smaller one. And after blowing a couple of magazines, it became clear she wasn't a bad shot at all. A lot of beginner flubs, like flinching or over-compensating, she just didn't do. It seemed this wasn't her first time shooting, though it was equally clear she hadn't had formal training or lessons before either. And, surprisingly, there wasn't a lot of horseplay or goofing around from her on the range. She still laughed and pointed when other folks messed up, but she didn't mess around with the guns themselves. It was, perhaps, good to know [i]something[/i] on the planet had her respect. "Is it Cowboy Jack's [i]RiiiiiiicoCHET[/i] Barbecue?" Otter wanted to know as the lesson concluded. "Because that would be awesome. It's extra-bold." [/QUOTE]

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