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Grace is standing on the backyard of one of the base, with a row of empty cans a few meters in front of her. She's been drawing, twirling her revolver, then sheathing it back, again and again, for a few minutes already.
Then at one point, after drawing and twirling her gun, instead of sheathing it back she fires at the cans. For every gunpowder explosion, a can always falls down.
She considers this for a while, taking a few deep breaths before doing it all over again.
She concentrates, and after drawing her gun she shoots. Moving with a blur, this time for every gunpowder explosion heard, two or three cans fall down.
She sheathes her gun then put her hand on her chin as she analyzes the wanton destruction of can-kind in front of her.
"...need more work."
Then at one point, after drawing and twirling her gun, instead of sheathing it back she fires at the cans. For every gunpowder explosion, a can always falls down.
She considers this for a while, taking a few deep breaths before doing it all over again.
She concentrates, and after drawing her gun she shoots. Moving with a blur, this time for every gunpowder explosion heard, two or three cans fall down.
She sheathes her gun then put her hand on her chin as she analyzes the wanton destruction of can-kind in front of her.
"...need more work."
From:
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[The sudden defensive explanation seems to peter out for some reason.]
From:
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From:
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