2013.07.13 - Red Heads and Heavy Weapons

Against all odds, Justin kept his word to one Miss Fern Fiddlehead and called her when he got back into New York. Granted, that call came in on Wednesday morning, not Monday afternoon, as he was delayed an extra day in Nevada and didn't make it back until late on Tuesday evening. Still, he did call her as he said he would and extended the offer to take Fern shooting on Saturday to make up for his delay.

Early afternoon on Saturday a black, stretched Lincoln Towncar limo pulled up in front of Fern's apartment building. Jack, Justin's personal driver, is the one to make the pickup. He's a friendly, easy-going man, and it's those very traits that's allowed him to suffer through long-term employment by Hammer. All the regular courtesies that come with riding in a limo are shown to Fern, and the ride to Staten Island is quick and comfortable.

As the limo rolls onto Hammer Industries property, Jack takes a right and bypasses the large front driveway for the office tower. The car rolls past several of the shorter buildings behind the administration complex, finally pulling to a stop in front of a long, low building with no windows. The frosted glass doors are set to the far east end of the featureless expanse, with the words "BLDG C1 TEST RANGE" in black to the left of the entrance. Once the car has come to a stop Jack exits, walking around to the right rear door and opening it for the waitress.

A limo in Fern's slightly seedy neighborhood would normally be a thing of gossip, conjecture, and perhaps even a target for the local teenaged thugs. But, Fern has created something of a safe zone for herself in the neighborhood, and it's not the first time she's been picked up by a swanky ride. Instead of sitting in the 'way back' and doing whatever it is rich people do in a limo, she scoots up near the front, to talk with Jack through the divider window. She asks after his family, how long he's been working for Justin, what he likes best about his job and what isn't his favorite thing. It's a comfortable chatter, for her at least, lasting until they turn into HI property. By the time the door is opened Fern has scooted back again, and she slides out of the limo and looks around. "This is new," she muses, smoothing her skirt down before adjusting the strap of her sleeveless top. She ducks her head back into the car, retrieving a small box from Anita Bella and her black hoodie. Her attention settles on the driver, along with her bright smile, "Thanks, Jack. I hope you have a good afternoon."

Jack smiles to Fern as he closes the door to the limo after she has picked up her belongings. "Believe it or not it's not terribly unusual for me to bring people back here," he comments offhandedly. He moves toward the frosted glass doors, taking a key card from his jacket pocket and swiping it over a reader. The light on the reader turns green and it emits a sharp tone, and Jack pulls the door open for the young woman. "My pleasure. You have a good one as well," he answers with a smile. He stands back, obviously not entering the building with Fern, and lets the door go once she's stepped inside.

The inside of the building is only slightly less featureless than the exterior. The floor is all white industrial vinyl tile, and the walls are white as well with a grey stripe that runs parallel to the floor about halfway up. On the left hand wall there's another set of double doors- these made of grey metal with large warning signs striped in red: 'WARNING - LIVE FIRE TESTING RANGE - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY'. There's another set of glass doors directly across from the outter doors, presumably leading to storage areas or more labs. A desk is built into the corner, and has log sheets tracking access to the building.

Justin had been leaning against the wall with the large steel doors, and as soon as the outer doors had opened he straightened up. He's surprisingly not dressed in a suit- instead wearing a dark blue shooting shirt with a quilted pad on the right shoulder and the HI logo stitched on the left breast, black tactical pants and boots. He still has an expensive watch and ring on, as well has his typical thick-framed glasses.

Fern pauses for a second just inside the door, letting her eyes adapt to the change in brightness after the light outside. Still, even not quite adjusted, Justin is unmistakable, and Fern's smile comes immediately. "Justin! I'm so happy you made it home alright. Thank you for calling to let me know," she says warmly, even as she steps toward him. Her arms come up, not yet to offer the box to him, but for a brief hug before she steps back. Then the box is held out. "I brought you your welcome home cannoli."

Justin smiles when Fern does. He's gotten used to the woman's fondness for hugs, and returns the gesture politely. "I told you I would," he replies, though he leaves out the part about nearly forgetting about it and then calling the next day. He takes the box and grins. "Why thank you Miss Fern. I'm also happy to report that I managed to not eat all the ones you sent with me the same day." No, he managed to spread it out over two days, which had to be a record for him. He turns to set the box down on the desk by the sign-in logs, then waves a hand toward the desk. "You can leave your stuff out here if you'd like. There's no food or drink in the range itself, because it's a safety hazard, so I have to leave these out here too. I've already signed us in, so we should be good to go."

If Fern has ever noticed any particular lack of warmth in Justin's hugs it's never seemed to bother her or put her off in the least. "I knew you wouldn't," she says breezily, "You said you wouldn't." Doesn't matter if it was two days, she believed that it would be a single day. "Oh, all I brought was my sweatshirt." Shrugging into it, she goes on, "Daddy taught us to always be mindful of the spent casings and how hot they can be." With the sweatshirt on, her smile is back on Justin. "My oldest brother got one down his shirt once. He screamed like a girl." This brings a giggle at the memory, even as her eyes look over Justin and his uncustomary attire. "I don't think I've ever seen you not in a suit before, Justin."

Justin grins at Fern's retelling of the incident with her brother. He's had more than his fair share of encounters with spent casings, to the point that they don't really bother him anymore. He's been hit by shrapnel as well, which stung a hell of a lot worse. When Fern mentions the fact he's not in a suit he looks down at himself and shrugs lightly. "I figured that it's the weekend, and this is a lot more practical for shooting." Plus it's been hot, so wearing short sleeves is a welcome relief. Especially since they're predicting even hotter weather for the upcoming week. Grinning he motions toward the large, placarded doors. "So shall we? I took the liberty of picking out a few of my favorites from my collection for you to try." Reaching out he opens the left hand door, which leads into the range itself.

The range is a long, a very long, room. The ceiling is covered in angular foam baffles of dark grey, contrasting with the same white, industrial tile on the floor. The far back wall, which is some 500 feet back, is covered in a sloping pile of black granules designed to catch and hold the fired rounds. There are only five lanes, each with a collapsible bench, but each of the lanes is extremely spacious. To the left of the double doors is a glassed in observation room, where people can sit and watch the tests without having to wear ear and eye protection. The center lane seems to be the ones set up for the day's shooting, targets already stacked neatly on the bench and a rolling metal cart with a hefty assortment of firearms sitting next to it.

Fern steps in ahead of Justin, scanning the room briefly. "Wow... this is huge," she says softly. Her feet pad without sound, not even a squeak coming from the sneakers that she's worn instead of sandals, again in deference to safety. "Your collection?" is tossed back over her shoulder even as she stops and turns to face her host, head tilting curiously. Her grin takes a sheepish cast. "I didn't really think about it, but that makes sense, doesn't it? I didn't really think you'd be like the shoemaker who had no shoes for himself. Daddy would probably have a field day, talking 'shop' with you."

The door closes behind Justin as he follows Fern into the range itself. Her amazement brings a smile. He's proud of his company, of the facilities that he owns, but the state of the art testing range has always been one of his favorite achievements. He chuckles lightly as he makes his way over to the rolling cart, where the weapons are currently resting. Each one is carefully arranged so that the muzzles are pointed downrange, and each is set in such a way that it's easy to tell it's unloaded with the actions open. "If he ever gets out this way to visit," Hammer says, looking away from the cart and toward Fern, "I'd be glad to show him around. I've managed to amass a pretty sizable firearms collection, a lot of stuff that's really hard to get a hold of." Bragging? Maybe just a bit. He picks up a pair of electronic headphones, offering them to Fern. They are battery operated, and allow the wearer to still hear conversations while blocking out the noise from the shots.

"Daddy would be in hog heaven," Fern says with a wide grin. "Maybe I'll use that as incentive to get him and Mom up here sometime." Reaching out, she takes the headphones, not putting them on yet, and steps nearer to Justin and the cart. Curious eyes take in the assortment of weapons, widening slightly. "Wow. I don't even know what most of those are." Again, a sheepish look, as she admits, "Well, I don't know what much of anything is, when it comes to guns. Daddy has a pistol that he let me shoot, and a revolver that I never did. Plus a couple rifles." Her grin widens, "I think the deal he and Mom made was that he could only have as many guns as he had kids."

Once Fern has the headphones, Justin offers her a pair of safety glasses. "Tell'em if they come out here, I'll make sure they see the best parts of the city, too," he offers. He picks up a small box and extracts two devices that look a lot like hearing aids- custom fit electronic ear protection. He puts one in each ear, flicking the tiny switches to turn them on automatically. He doesn't need safety glasses for himself, the polycarbonate lenses in his glasses offering the same protection. He chuckles as Fern talks about her family. "If I had made that deal with the ex-wife, I never would have had anything. Glad I dodged that one-" He stops himself, looking back toward the weapons. "So, you wanna start with something lighter, like the handguns, or go straight into the heaavy-duty hardware?"

Fern slides the glasses on first, then puts the headphones on, adjusting them to fit her head and properly protect her ears. The clearness with which his voice comes through is a bit surprising to her, having only used 'regular' ear protection before, where you have to raise your voice to converse. "How about we start simple and work our way up?" she asks, ready to defer to his superior knowledge of the subject. There's a grin as she follows that up with, "You're not going to give me something that you know will knock me on my butt, are you?" If she wants to question him about his ex-marriage, she doesn't, letting the more delicate subject lie for the present.

There's a silent 'thank you' for the subject change sticking. Justin gives a mock look of offense. "Why would you think I would do a thing like that?" he asks, reaching down to pluck a small, all-black pistol from the cart. Out of habit he double checks the chamber, verifying there isn't a magazine loaded and there are absolutely no rounds in the weapon. He turns and sets the pistol on the bench, barrel down range, then retrieves a magazine and a box of rounds for the weapon. "This one shouldn't knock you back. It's a .40 caliber Heckler and Koch P2000. Fully ambidextrous, no safety except keep your finger off the trigger. It's my personal carry weapon. It's a bit snappy on the recoil, since it has a composite frame, but still good to shoot." He loads five rounds into the magazine as he explains the weapon, then offers the loaded mag to Fern. He assumes that, since she's shot a pistol before, that she knows this much. He'll explain further if she needs it, but guesses she isn't completely green.

Fern knows enough to know where to slide the magazine in, then she looks to Justin for guidance. She holds it with her index finger extended along side the barrel, not curled around the trigger, and keeps it pointed away from him, down toward the far end, like the unloaded ones on the cart. "I don't know much about the different kinds," she says, a note of apology in her voice. "I've only fired the one Daddy has before. He would teach me to use one if he ever got it for me, but...." She lets the thought trail off with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Well, you're off to a good start," Justin says, noting that Fern is keeping the barrel down range and her finger off the trigger. Her dad taught her well. He moves to Fern's left side, looking over how she's holding the weapon. "Go ahead and level it downrange. On the side of the slide is a small lever, hit it with your thumb to release the slide lock. That will chamber the first round." There's already a target run out to about 7 yards, your typical bullseye type with concentric, numbered rings. "This one likes to jump up a bit, keep that in mind, but it doesn't kick too hard. The pull on the trigger is also pretty long, so it's going to take a bit for it to fire. Just exhale and ease it back evenly. When you look down the sights keep the three dots in a line, and put the center of your target just above the center dot."

Fern turns the weapon just enough for her to see the lever, and she thumbs it down as Justin directs. Her stance isn't expert, but she shows more knowledge than someone who's never held a gun before. Two hands on the pistol, her left wrapped around to support it's weight, arms out straight. She's no showoff, trying to use one hand or hold it sideways or do any of the number of things that people who shouldn't have guns try to do. The young waitress takes her time, as well, tilting the weapon a little, straightening it again, leveling the sights. There's a bit of a drop to her arms as she aims as directed, a hair below the target to account for the recoil. She takes a deep breath in and releases it, then another which is held for a moment, released slowly, and then her finger tightens on the trigger. It's a squeeze, not a pull, but the recoil still is a little sharp for her, and the shot hits the target, but high and to the right a bit. Fern frowns lightly, finger back off the trigger.

Justin takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest to give the woman some room when she shoots, as well as to avoid getting hit with hot brass. The range is pretty spacious, and he's on her left side, so it isn't much of an issue. More a habit than anything. He nods approvingly at her first shot. "Not bad, go ahead and empty the clip, there's four more rounds," he says. Seeing that she hit high and right his first guess is that she has too much of her finger on the trigger so she's pulling a bit, but he doesn't mention it. It's her first shot with the weapon, so it's just as likely a fluke.

Fern turns her head, looking over at Justin with a grin. "That was awful, but you're sweet for not pointing it out on my first go." Her attention focuses back on the task at hand, and she tries to remember things her father taught her. The remaining shots come slowly, each one adjusted a bit more. She's still pulling a bit to the right, though, and she frowns as the magazine empties, the chamber staying open without further ammo. There's a frown pulling at her lips as she surveys the target.

Justin steps forward when Fern finishes off the clip. He hits the switch to bring the target back up to the bench, and looks it over. "Trust me, it's not that awful," he comments. "I've had so-called professionals in here who couldn't shoot that well." He offers the waitress a grin. "I think you may be pulling a bit on the trigger. Make sure that you only have the tip of your finger on the trigger. Helps minimize the pulling. Not to mention that's a really jumpy little gun. The .45 I brought with me actually jumps less, even with a larger round."

Moving to replace the spent gun on the cart, Fern looks curiously toward Justin. "What made you so interested in weapons?" It's not that she doesn't know similar people from back home, but Justin has taken it to an unfathomed level with his government contracts and gigantic compound.

Justin takes up the .45 from the cart of weapons, as well as a box of ammo from one of the drawers. He turns and places both on the bench. "I was just always fascinated by them," he answers looking back to Fern with a light shrug. "Used to try and design them when I was a kid. When I got older and understood the engineering behind them, I was actually able to make the designs work." And it just snowballed from there. One contract lead to another, lead to another. He idly loads the magazine of the next pistol, again with five rounds. He sets it down next to the stainless steel pistol. "This one is my version of the classic Colt 1911- the HI-1911. .45 caliber. The all-steel frame keeps it from snapping as much as the P2000, it's a much heavier weapon." He steps to the left, giving Fern room to move back up to the bench, and runs the target back out to seven yards.

The image of a much smaller Justin designing toy guns brings a smile to Fern's lips, and she studies him as he easily goes through the process again with the new weapon. "You must do it well, to have become so successful at it," she notes, stepping up as Justin moves sideways. She takes the gun in a right-handed grip, supporting it with her left hand, her stance relaxed. But she takes his tips to heart, adjusting her finger on the trigger accordingly. Gaining some confidence by Justin's lack of criticism, these shots come off smoothly, measured, and with much better aim. The flying brass tinks onto the floor musically, and when the gun is empty she stands for a moment, before straightening and lowering her arms. "I think you were absolutely right," she affirms.

"I like to think I am," Justin says with a bit of a smirk. His tone and attitude are closer to his normal cocky nature, but still far milder than he normally is. Fern's simple presence would probably do wonders for both Justin, and HI's reputations. He again steps back as Fern takes up the .45, and watches as she shoots. Instantly he can see a difference in the placement of the shots, and nods approvingly. "Nice shootin'," he tells her with a grin as he brings the target back in. "Good grouping. Yeah, looks like your finger position on the trigger was the issue." He glances toward the cart. "Ready to try something heavier?"

Fern grins as she gets a closer look at the target, "Well, it pays to listen to the experts." The empty weapon is again placed back, and she tilts her head. "Sure," she says, matching his cockiness playfully, "What'cha got, big boy?" There's nothing wrong with cocky if it's tempered, and with the Justin she's been witness to, Fern still would never imagine he could take that to another level, as well.

Being referred to as an 'expert' brings a grin to Justin's face. He's always liked being the 'smart' one, the one people look to for knowledge. It's one of the biggest reasons he hates Tony Stark- when compared to the prodigal son he's practically the village idiot. And that pisses Hammer off to no end. The CEO looks over the cart, finally settling on a fair-sized rifle. It's entirely blued with a synthetic stock, so the entire weapon seems to have an even, matte black finish. "This is the rifle that started my company. An HI-4MCR. It can be configured to fire over a dozen different calibers with no tools and minimal parts changes. I've currently got it set up for 7.62x39, the same rounds used in the famous AK-47." He sets it down on the bench, then proceeds to load 5 rounds into the magazine from the stock he has. "You said your dad had rifles, have you shot a rifle before?" Being a military weapon, the HI-4MCR operates differently than most hunting rifles, though shouldering and firing it should be very similar.

Justin might be surprised to learn that Fern had been rubbing elbows at a couple events where Tony Stark was also a guest. Likely also at Fern's opinion of the other man. He had been pleasant, but also... aloof, might be the best fitting word. Untouchable. Above communication with someone like Fern. She just found Justin more approachable. Obviously, since she considers him a friend. Interested eyes settle on the weapon, and Justin's question is met with a negative shake of her head, "No, I never have. I was satisfied with just the handguns. It's not like I was going out hunting or anything."

There's a lot of people who would be shocked that anyone could find Justin approachable. Still, his usual attempts at networking and social engineering probably do make him seem more so than Stark. Justin nods, then picks up the rifle, not loading it yet. "Same rule applies as with any other gun, finger off the trigger. Your left hand rests on the forearm, like this." He demonstrates how to hold the weapon properly. "When you shoulder it, try to get the butt of the stock in the pocket of your shoulder. It's going to kick a bit, so lean into it." Again he demonstrates how to properly hold the weapon, shouldering it and pointing it downrange. "Squeeze the trigger slowly, and watch your finger placement, just like with a pistol. The sights are similar, only you'll want to center the front sight in the circle on the rear sight." He lowers the weapon and loads it, then sets in on the bench and steps back.

It's clear by her expression that Fern is listening carefully, her eyes following his example, and she nods her understand. As Justin steps back again, she asks with a grin, "And you'll catch me if I fall over, right?" It's a little clumsy, with her smaller stature, to get the weapon up and held properly, but she copies Justin's example as best she can. The rifle might be a bit too far out on her shoulder, and she turns her head to find her host. "Does this look alright?"

"I really doubt you'll fall," Justin offers, "...But I'll catch you if you do." After all it's beyond even Hammer to step back and laugh when a lady is knocked on her backside by a high-powered rifle. That's just not gentlemanly. He looks over Fern's stance with a critical eye. "You're going to want to tuck the stock in just a little closer, otherwise it's going to knock your shoulder pretty hard." He takes a step forward and carefully adjusts the way Fern is holding the rifle, making sure the stock is sitting in the pocket of her shoulder.

Fern lets Justin tweak her stance, giving him a grateful smile. "Thank you." She turns her attention to the sights, taking care to line it up as instructed, and her voice drifts out before she fires. "You make a good teacher. Did you ever think of doing gun safety courses?" She doesn't think of it in terms of PR, although something like that might potentially look good for HI if they aren't already doing or sponsoring something like that. She's about to squeeze the trigger, but she pauses, shifts her finger to pull it back a measure, then takes the first shot. Even leaning into it, expecting it, the recoil still wobbles Fern, and she takes a step backward, being careful with where the weapon points even now. "Oh! Ow!"

Justin a good teacher? Only when Fern is involved. However, the idea of sponsored safety courses has crossed his mind. Fern's suggestion brings that back to the forefront. "It's crossed my mind. I haven't hosted them personally, save for a few close contacts, but I like the idea. Think I'll revisit it." HI does sponsor safety courses and training, but bringing that to the forefront might be a positive step. He smiles and steps back, watching the waitress take her first shot with the rifle. When the young woman wobbles, Justin steps forward again. "It kicks a little bit with that particular round. You alright?" Is that genuine concern?

Fern grins even as she winces and flexes her shoulder. "That's gonna leave a mark," she jokes lightly. "Maybe this is why Daddy never gave me a rifle." Still, she turns her attention back to the task at hand, not put off by a little kick. She'll heal, and she's been bruised worse just walking down the street (and getting attacked by a dimension-hopping werewolf, sure). She snugs the rifle back up despite the spot still aching, but at least she knows from that exactly where to set it this time. The next shot isn't as much of a surprise, and by the last Fern has gotten better at leaning in and absorbing the kick. She lowers the rifle and rolls her shoulder again. "I could never be a soldier, that's for sure."

"You're gonna have a bruise on your shoulder," Justin says, "I've been shooting for many, many years and still get them." He watches the last four rounds go down range, and nods approvingly. He likes the fact that Fern didn't back down after being kicked once. He's seen men much larger than her give up after less recoil. "I don't know, something tells me you could put up quite a fight if you had to. What is it they always say about redheads? Firey tempers?" He smirks and takes the rifle, clearing it and setting with the others. "Lets try something that will rock and roll." Turning Justin picks up the HI equivalent of the classic M-16 that's chambered for a .223 round. "This is a smaller round, less kick than the 7.62x39, but it has a full auto setting." The rifle isn't legal for the average citizen to own, but since HI is a manufacturer, it gets them around the law.

Fern hands the rifle over to Justin with a giggle, "You wouldn't wanna see me mad. But it does tend to flare and then die out quickly." Her eyes widen slightly as the new weapon is picked up, and Fern says softly, "My brothers are gonna be so jealous. Will you take a picture with my phone when I shoot it?" Her grin is almost fiendishly delighted, "I'm gonna send it to all three of them." The phone is quickly pulled out of her pocket, a button push getting the camera set, and she waits to offer it out to him until he's ready to trade fun for phone. "Full auto? Wow."

Justin is highly amused by Fern's amusement. "Absolutely, I can do that," he says, but he doesn't hand over the rifle just yet. "Before you fire this one, a couple of things. First, firing full auto is a lot different than the semi-auto that you've had so far. The muzzle is going to try and climb with every round fired, so you have to work to keep the muzzle down and under control. You want to fire in short bursts- so let off the trigger pretty quickly. This weapon will empty it's entire magazine in just a few seconds." Once the warning has been issued he loads a full magazine into the rifle and sets it to automatic fire. He offers it Fern, taking the phone when the woman takes the gun.

Again, Fern listens attentively. She's definitely not the flighty sort of young woman that is too busy primping, or tweeting, or worrying about the Kardashians to pay attention. Especially when it's pretty darned important. "And I hold it just the same as the other?" she asks, passing off the phone. It's a no-frills model, the best she can afford, and simple to use. She turns to focus on the range, trying not to smile like an idiot at the anticipation of the messages she'll get in return. But she does murmur, "So jealous." There's no hurry as Fern makes sure she's checking off everything to remember in her head, especially the part about letting off the trigger quickly. She wants the picture to look good, not be a news story tomorrow about some crazed woman shooting up one of Hammer's buildings. She takes a breath in, lets it out, then gives the trigger a quick squeeze. While she has to pull to keep the barrel level, or at least darned close to, she manages it. "Whoa."

"Just the same," Justin replies as he stands back and aims the phone's camera at Fern. He takes one picture with the phone before Fern fires, just to make sure he knows how it works, then waits for her to fire. He snaps another pic in the middle of the burst of rounds, then lowers the phone to look over the target. "Not bad at all, especially for never firing an automatic weapon. So, you like rock and roll, then?"

Fern is positively beaming as she looks at Justin. "That's just neat." She giggles and offers the gun out to him, "You shoot. I want a picture of you going all Rambo to send the boys. They'll die." She considers a moment before she says, "I'm not sure what I expected today, but I'm having a lot of fun. Thank you, Justin."

The CEO chuckles. A girl after his own heart. The ex-wife never wanted anything to do with weapons of any kind, which lead to some of the problems in the marriage. Reaching out Justin takes the gun, careful to keep the muzzle pointed in a safe direction. Always a ham, whether or not he's at one of those fancy social functions, he is quick to oblige Fern's request. "If you insist," he says with a grin, stepping up to the bench. "Glad you're having fun." He faces fully down range and shoulders the weapon. There's actually a hesitation as he realizes this is the first time he has fired a live weapon since the hostage crisis in May. He used to shoot several times a week, but since that happened he's been making excuses. Too busy, somewhere else to be... Hammer takes a deep breath, adjusts the rifle, then lets go with a controlled burst of fire. He takes out a good chunk of the center of the target, his grouping up there with anyone who's proficient with automatic weapons.

Fern literally bounces with excitement, but she manages to still as Justin gets set, and she gets off two quick pictures while he's shooting. As she looks down at the target she lets out a short squeal. "That's awesome!" She waits for him to bring the target in again, then takes a picture of it, too. His shots took out the center, hers are at least nearby, if somewhat less tightly placed. Immediately she turns her attention to the phone, tapping a button, pulling the pictures back up and going to the first Justin took of her. She edges closer to the CEO to share the look at the screen with him. "You can shoot, you take good pictures, what else can you do?" she asks lightly as she flips to the next picture. "They. Will. Die. D-E-D dead." Another borderline fiendish giggle comes as she flips to the first picture of Justin. "You do look like Rambo!"

Justin sets the rile down on the bench, setting the safety. He smiles at Fern's enthusiasm as she takes a picture of the target and compliments his shooting. He bows his head lightly to the compliment, then looks over the pictures on Fern's phone as she scrolls through them. "I don't know, a few things," he replies before he shakes his head lightly as Fern again giggles about how jealous her brothers are going to be. The comment about Rambo gets a raised brow and a chuckle. "That I'm not so sure about. I don't think Stallone is quite as good looking." There we go with the cocky attitude again. "There's a few rounds left, you want to fire them?"

With Fern's sense of humor, she sees it not as an attitude, but as good natured joking, which she goes along with, "Well, granted that. Wasn't then, isn't now. But it would make him feel bad if we told him that." Her nose wrinkles quickly, and she looks to the gun, then reaches up and rubs her shoulder gently, "I think maybe I should give my shoulder a rest. I'm no expert, like you."

Justin chuckles, then waves back toward the cart. "Anything else you want to try, then?" There's still a good assortment of different weapons, though many of them look like rifles or other heavier weapons. "I think you might want to avoid the shotguns or the Browning .50, though."

Fern thumbs her phone off, pocketing it again with plans to text the pictures later, and she looks over at Justin's motion. "Actually," she says, looking back to him with a grin, "That made me hungry. Wanna go get a hotdog from a cart with me?" Despite the months she's been in the city, the vendor hotdogs are still a treat to her. You don't get dirty water dogs in smalltown Ohio.

"Sure," Hammer replies, 'Sounds like a good plan." He usually doesn't turn down food. He turns back to the bench and unloads the rifle, dropping the magazine and the gun back on the cart. He'll worry about cleaning and packing up the weapons later, for now they're secure in the building. He then pops the two hearing protectors out of his ears, setting them on the cart as well. "We'll want to stop off and wash up, don't want to eat lead, y'know."

Fern pulls off her own protective gear, brushing by Justin to put them on the cart dutifully. There's a laugh for his joke, a natural one, not something forced for the man in charge. "That would taste like crud and be unhealthy, no matter how you look at it." She brushes lightly at her outfit, then slips her hoodie back off. "Hey," she chirps, as if just struck by an idea, "There's always hotdog vendors over by the ferry. We could take a boat ride while we eat?" she suggests hopefully. Dirty water dogs, a boat ride and a friend, what more could a girl want after shooting heavy weapons?

Again the idea of riding the ferry just to ride the ferry never really crossed Justin's mind until Fern mentions it. He chuckles. "Absolutely, if that's what you'd like to do. Want me to call Jack, have him take us down there?" He motions toward the door to the range, waiting for Fern to start off first before falling in step with her. "Oh, the restrooms are just past the glass doors to your left when we exit the range," he offers, opening the heavy steel doors that lead back out to what passes for the lobby.

While she might normally opt for something less fancy than any of Justin's fleet of cars, she nods agreeably. "That would be the fastest trip there. And who wants to wait longer than they have to for a hotdog and a boat ride?" It never occurs to her to wonder if Justin has a boat, because he could surely afford one. She just thinks of the simple pleasures first. As they exit she looks to the left, then back to Justin. "I'll be back in two ticks," she promises lightly, before going to wash up. And it would probably be a good idea to make sure all that water doesn't make her have to pee in the middle of their treat. It's only a couple minutes later that she's back, shaking the last of the dampness from her hands.

Of course Justin has a boat, a fairly large one at that. It doesn't occur to him to suggest taking the yacht out, though, since Fern has already mentioned the ferry. When Fern returns Justin is out in the lobby, on the phone. He's already washed the lead off his hands, and has called Jack. "Excellent," he says into the phone, then drops it from his ear and hits the 'end' button. He turns toward Fern as she emerges from the double doors. "Jack will be here in just a couple minutes," he tells her before heading toward the exterior doors. He stops at the desk in the corner and grabs the box of cannolis that Fern brought him.

There's a happy bounce in Fern's step as she waits for Justin to get the box, then companionably links arms with him. "This is turning into a wonderful day," she declares, leading Justin out to their next adventure.