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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"Call it a bizare form of white liberal guilt - human guilt - but, yeah."

"Yeah. They should know that it might not feel good, but sometimes you don't have much of a choice, though."

And then there are times when that explanation doesn't work--at least with himself. Though in that case it's not killing an animal. It's the times he's had to kill someone he knows to prevent a larger disaster, and for a moment he can see the look on Curtis' face again, as he realized that Jack had shot him and he was bleeding out.

She snorts.

"Yeah. But that'd require 'em to be interested in humans. And they ain't."

Jack's mouth flattens into a thin smile. "Yeah, true. Though I'm not sure I can blame them. Animals have got to be easier to predict and deal with--even when they're trying to eat you--than humans."

She takes a deep breath, and then shakes it.

"Humans, humanoids...I don't see the difference." She shrugs, slids her hand-gun back into her holster. "But, that's my posting for you."

"And it's still better than your Earth. And you haven't just moved in here?" Jack says with the same, grim smile.

She smirks at him.

"Nah. Can't really fly here. Be boring."

"Says the woman who flew in here in the first place."

"That was interestin'," Trudy allows, "but not much to do here, is there? Just...fly in circles above an itty bitty area. Not really my cup of coffee."

"True. I guess out there you have more space to fly, even if it is a lot more dangerous."

She smiles at him, the expresion beautiful and happy and, really, she might have issues with her posting, but mostly she loves it.

What she says is, "I stay here, I might as well be flyin' in some botanic gardens. And," she shrugs. The metahpor 'bird in a cage' may or may not spring to mind.

"It's fun. I bitch, but it's...it's fun."

"Yeah, I get that," he says with a slightly sad smile. Working with CTU had cost him a lot--cost him everything. He doesn't want to go back, can't trust his own government anymore.

But at the same time it seems like the only thing worthwhile. It's the on;y thing he knows how to do. And God help him, when he was in the middle of a crisis, it felt right.

"Yeah," she says, studying him, "I'm guessin' that you do."

Then she ducks her head, a bit. "Speakin' of work, I...should be headin' back. But I'll catch you around, yeah?"

"Yeah," he says with a nod. "I'm sure I'll see you around here again soon."

Trudy smirks at that, a bit, and gives him a half wave, half salute before turning around and jogging away.

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