Although he'd known John was good from the brief snippets of information he's gleaned, he didn't imagine that he'd be this good. But that's the reflexes, aim, and calm of a seasoned and expert sniper.
He gives John an approving sort of look when he finally lowers the rifle, producing a hunting knife.]
I can probably carry it back.
[The metal arm is strong, he's swung motorcycles around over his head before, he can probably lift an elk with some effort.]
[John smiles faintly, pleased with the kill, even if it's going to be a slog to get the elk back home... or to the slaughterhouse is where it should probably go. He's not going to be able to get it sorted out in the kitchen. Bucky's offer and the compliment draw the doctor back to the present moment.]
Thanks. Good to know I haven't lost my touch at night. Are you sure about carrying it, though? It's a hike. We can bury it in the snow, too, and I can come back for it in the morning with a sled.
There's other animals out here that might dig it up, especially now that Zephyr's made them more-- wild.
[He takes a step out onto the lake itself, testing the thickness of the ice carefully to see if it can take his weight. It'll just be faster than going around the outside.]
Seems a shame to waste such a good kill. You can feed a lot of people with that, or salt it and keep it through the winter.
[Luckily, the lake ice is very thick, and with the snow over most of it, they won't be in danger of slipping. John puts the safety back on his rifle and shoulders it along with his pack so that he can follow after Bucky.]
I can probably use it for the Christmas party I'm gonna be putting together. Nice big pot of elk stew.
[That sounds like a plan. He'll have to work quickly on getting the thing skinned and butchered tomorrow.]
Thanks again for the rifle, mate. It's gonna be great for hunting. Wish I'd had it on some of my cases back home. [He snorts.] Easier than shooting someone with a handgun in the middle of the night, anyway.
Yeah, I got that. A lot of people don't seem to be. Alphonse turned up, did you see? The kid in the metal suit from back in Norfinbury. Met up with him in the Void and he didn't seem to like my shotgun much.
[And Sherlock doesn't like guns. John sighs.]
Think I'll probably have to keep this at your place with the other one. Sherlock doesn't like guns in the house. We worked out something for my handgun, but I don't want to push it.
[He noticed the new house and scouted it long enough to see who it was, but he never interacted with Al in Norfinbury and he doesn't have much interest in changing that here either.]
It's for hunting, and it's a gift, he can get over it.
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Although he'd known John was good from the brief snippets of information he's gleaned, he didn't imagine that he'd be this good. But that's the reflexes, aim, and calm of a seasoned and expert sniper.
He gives John an approving sort of look when he finally lowers the rifle, producing a hunting knife.]
I can probably carry it back.
[The metal arm is strong, he's swung motorcycles around over his head before, he can probably lift an elk with some effort.]
That was a real good shot.
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Thanks. Good to know I haven't lost my touch at night. Are you sure about carrying it, though? It's a hike. We can bury it in the snow, too, and I can come back for it in the morning with a sled.
[And hope nothing's got to it by then.]
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[He takes a step out onto the lake itself, testing the thickness of the ice carefully to see if it can take his weight. It'll just be faster than going around the outside.]
Seems a shame to waste such a good kill. You can feed a lot of people with that, or salt it and keep it through the winter.
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I can probably use it for the Christmas party I'm gonna be putting together. Nice big pot of elk stew.
[That sounds like a plan. He'll have to work quickly on getting the thing skinned and butchered tomorrow.]
Thanks again for the rifle, mate. It's gonna be great for hunting. Wish I'd had it on some of my cases back home. [He snorts.] Easier than shooting someone with a handgun in the middle of the night, anyway.
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[It's a pleasure to give a gift to a friend, a small sort of celebration of how far he's come from what he was before.]
Just maybe don't use it in front of Renart, she's not a fan.
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[And Sherlock doesn't like guns. John sighs.]
Think I'll probably have to keep this at your place with the other one. Sherlock doesn't like guns in the house. We worked out something for my handgun, but I don't want to push it.
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It's for hunting, and it's a gift, he can get over it.
[Have some backbone, John.]
It's your place too, not just his.
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He has panic attacks, Bucky. That's not something you just get over, really.