hallelujahpilot | (no subject)

(no subject)

There is practice to let off steam, and there is practice because practice is important and can mean the difference between getting home in one piece and being, shall we say, eaten.

So the gun-range has a pilot today, albeit it one dressed in the Marine uniform instead of her flightsuit. She has a handgun instead of a rifle (her thigh-holster is empty - no point in practicing with a weapon you aren't going to use) and, like before, the bullet holes cluster around the bull's eye.

Judging by the number, she's been here for a while, and she is just sliding in her last magazine when she catches sight of someone approaching.

"Mornin', Jack."

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"Yes, we do."

Which is - go for a long drive and a marathon Star Wars.

"Does it involve visiting a rifle range or jumping out of a plane?" He's teasing, really.

"I don't kiss and tell."

"I'll just have to grill Carl, then."

She laughs at that, the sound witch's-cackle-wicked and somehow joyeous at the same time. Whatever else might be going through Carl's head, he at least makes the pilot happy.

"Yeah-huh. What he tells you is his business."

"Yeah. He can be pretty tight-lipped when he wants to be, though." Not that Jack should really be complaining, considering how few people in the bar he's told, well, anything about what's happened to him in the last couple years.

"Doesn't that kinda come with the territory?"

"Yeah. But it starts becoming a habit outside of work, too."

Trudy's eyes narrow slightly.

"Like with yourself."

Jack gives her a grim smile. "That's a bit more than habit by now."

More like self-preservation and paranoia.

She regards him for a long moment, eyes sharp.

"Okay," she says at last, with an easy smile. "I won't ask."

"Probably a good thing, as you can ask all you won't but I don't promise to answer," Jack says with an attempt at a weak smile that misses by a mile.

That gets a huffed laugh.

"Exactly! But, seriously, Carl's not...any worse than I'd expect."

"There's a compliment," Jack says wryly.

Entertained, "You'd prefer me to lie?"

"No. Least you know what you're getting into," he says with a slight smile.

"Ye-e-ep."

Military, secretive, with a side-helping of PTSD. She can deal with it. Then her eyes narrow again. "Any objections?" Her tone is friendly, curious...and her eyes are sharp.

Jack shakes his head. "No. Not that it's any of my business, anyway."

"You're a friend. Friends tend to be nosy. And protective." And Jack, Trudy feels, would be more nosy than most.

And more protective.

"Yeah. Carl's a big boy, though. Even if I had a problem, there's not much I could do."

Wry, "You strike me as being determined."

Beat.

"I, uh, prefer the not minding, though."

"I am. I'm not exactly in a place to judge, though."

Considering the number of relationships he's screwed up, usually because of his work, and the number of people he's gotten hurt because they were involved with him, he doesn't really have a place to question Carl's relationship decisions. Unless Carl was very mistaken about the other person, that is. He's not going to question Carl's decisions too much, but he's still got Carl's back.

"Yeah?"

Jack gives her a wry smile. "Yeah. Let's just say Carl doesn't really have much of a track record with the ladies, but his is still better than mine."

"Gotcha." She doesn't seem that worried - God knows her own track record isn't exactly stellar, either.

Such are the pitfulls of being career military.