so this is what you meant when you said that you were spent

[voodooqueer]

There's shit that can kill you in Darrow.

Maybe it ain't quite the same as it was back in Bon Temps, but Lafayette no longer feels like Darrow is a calm reprieve from all the bullshit. The bullshit ain't so personal anymore -- no Eric, no fucking Pam, none of that other crap. No Debbie Pelt, no vampire Tara, no dead lovers. But it still ain't safe.

The creeping realization just pisses Lafayette off, sends him to the gun shops to pick up a handgun, a shotgun, to hardware stores for extra locks for his door, for an axe with a good strong handle. Shit he might need.

He isn't afraid to hold a gun, or to shoot somebody with it, but he's not nearly as good a shot as Jason Stackhouse, and he knows he can do better with practice. He looks up where the local range is, drives out in his shitty hooptie to plunk down his license and cash and head out. The air is pretty bitterly cold, but Lafayette feels it less as he concentrates, hands gripping around the pistol as he aims and fires. Not good enough.

He licks nervously at his lips, drying out in the cold until the start to crack. It's his patience that starts to go, next It isn't like him, to lose his patience, and not keep his cool. The frustration only sends his aim even more down the toilet, and he curses under his breath, ripping the soft mufflers off of his head.

Comments

[uncannyaim]

Even when she isn't working, Andrea spends a lot of time at the range and this morning she's outside, intending on getting in some practice with her rifle. She doesn't need it -- especially not with the rifle -- but she misses shooting it sometimes, she doesn't have much use for it in Darrow and she's not exactly allowed to carry it around like she used to. Still, she pauses to watch the other man out on the range, smiling a little when his frustrations clearly get the best of him.

"Has it been awhile since you've done any shooting?" she asks, because he knows what he's doing, he can clearly handle a gun. It's not lack of ability that's affecting his shots, she thinks, just patience.

[voodooqueer]

"Yeah," Lafayette says, starting only slightly when the woman approaches. He sets his muffs down on the small stand in front of him and lifts his goggles, sighing. He scrubs at his face with a free hand, smelling of gunpowder.

"More or less, it been a while. And I was never taught to do it the right way to begin with." He bites at his lower lip, setting the gun to the side. He'd rather not have it in his hand if he's just having a conversation with a young chick at the gun range, not with how jumpy he knows he can get anymore. "But them bees happened, and I figure, maybe I best pick the hobby back up, you know what I mean. Who knows what it be next. Kangaroos. Who the fuck really knows, right?"

[uncannyaim]

She actually laughs a little at that, then holds up her hand, the sting on the back still red, still healing. It doesn't hurt as much as it itches and she knows exactly what he's saying. Maybe not kangaroos, but something innocuous, something they don't expect. For all the opportunities Darrow has given her, Andrea knows what it can look like underneath all the good things.

"Who the fuck knows," she agrees with a nod. "This might be kind of presumptuous, but I work here. If you wanted some tips... I mean, not an official class, I'm not working right now, I'm just..." She trails off, then wonders why she bothers trying to pretend she isn't an incredible shot. It's not her only talent, but it's by far the thing she's best at. "I'm pretty good."

[voodooqueer]

"I rather presumptuous than the opposite," Lafayette says honestly, giving her an assessing look. He knows damn well that she may be exactly as good a shot as she claims to be, especially because he also gets the feeling that she's being way the fuck too modest. She seems like a modest kind of person, in contrast to himself.

Not that he's big on brags, but fuck, he has a realistic view of his charms, and his flaws.

"Tips would be good," he adds. "Since I been here, I been attacked, twice, by monsters, and also by bees, and that was the times I knew I was actively getting fucked with Who knows what other shit's been going on beyond my notice, in a place like this ... I don't like feeling like shit is so out of control. Even if I never have to use the thing, I'm gonna keep carrying it with me. And if you're gonna carry a gun, you better fuckin' know how the fuck to shoot it. And you better be willing to."

Or you'd be dead, and maybe you'd deserve it a little.

[uncannyaim]

"You're absolutely speaking my language," Andrea says with a laugh. There are few people in Darrow she knows who can understand how she feels about guns. It's not only knowing how to use them, though she's a big advocate of that, of safety, but it's the ability to fire them when it comes down to it. When it becomes really important, the last thing anyone needs is for the person behind the triggers to freeze up or hesitate. She's seen what can happen when people take a gun and aren't willing to pull the trigger.

"I'm Andrea," she adds a moment later, offering her hand. "Do you prefer the pistol?"

[voodooqueer]

"Lafayette," he says, glancing at the gun and rubbing his hands together, to keep them warm.

"I didn't own one back home," he admits. "I didn't get this ... 'til I showed up here. But I kept a shotgun in the house. An' an axe-handle by the door. Not that I lived in the shittiest part of town, if you could even call it a town, but you can't be too careful. And that was before people started dying, because of the fuckin' vamps, and the werewolves, and the God knows whatever the fuck else. No kangaroos, though," he says, trying to lighten his own mood. "After that, I didn't know whether an old shotgun was my best friend, or just going to piss off whatever was comin' for me, more Won't stop me from usin' it, though."

He lifted his head to stare into the thin, gray winter sky. The more shit changed, the more it stayed the fucking same. That was life, he guessed. That was his life, either way. Especially, so long as he stuck with Sookie Stackhouse.

[uncannyaim]

"Jesus, vampires and werewolves. I just had zombies," she says, making a face, because if he's offering information like that without a second thought, she feels pretty comfortable talking about what she used to face. And she knows a thing or two about vampires now, living with one and having killed more than a few since her arrival. She's still not good at it, it's a struggle and it's messy, and she much prefers the Roamers, if only because they can be killed with a simple shot to the head. Something she's very good at getting done.

"So are you more comfortable with the shotgun, then? I'm kind of partial to the rifle, it's what I learned on, it's what I used back home for years, but there's not much reason for it here. Plus, it's not exactly portable."

[voodooqueer]

"Never seen a zombie outside of a cult classic," Lafayette admits. "Though I ain't sure there much of a damn fundamental difference." Maybe he's admitting his bias. He knows he shouldn't be so judgmental and shit, knows that his cousin Tara is a vampire. 'Cause he helped make her one, 'Cause he just couldn't let go. He doesn't even regret it. He knows Jessica Hamby, she ain't totally bad.

He also knows Eric, and Bill and motherfucking Pam, and those are lessons he's not going to forget anytime soon, either.

Lafayette scrubs at the tension behind his eyes.

"Might as well get myself more familiar wif' the pistol. Can't hide a shotgun in your coat. That why you so good? Zombies?"

[uncannyaim]

"There's really not much of a difference," Andrea says, shaking her head. Maybe the cause was different according to the movie; she'd seen her fair share, she knew it was blamed on anything from a virus to a meteor to one movie she even saw with an infect monkey being the cause. The start of it can always be different, but in the end it's the same. Dead people walking, biting, killing. "Movies and reality, when it comes to zombies it's pretty much all the same."

Shifting, she takes the rifle off her shoulder and leans it carefully against the nearby stand so she can take her pistol from her holster. "Yeah, I spent a lot of time in a clock tower picking them off," she says. "But the pistols are good, too. Like you said, they're a hell of a lot easier to carry around, less of a kick, too, which my shoulder thanks me for." Those first few months had been brutal, she'd almost always been bruised for quite awhile.

[voodooqueer]

"Meant between the zombies and vampires," Lafayette admits, a little guiltily, watching her slip the pistol from the holster she wears. She's a woman he knows he can respect. Lafayette never did have time for the sort of people, in general, who shied away from the shittier side of life. Life was hard, he'd always been honest with himself about that. And for most folks, not very glamorous, either. "Killing folks. Bringing them back to life. Destroying folks. Only difference is, vampires do it with personality, I guess."

Reaching for his own pistol again, Lafayette picked it up, stared at it for a long minute, thinking of Tara. "Some days, though, it's just like everything everywhere has made it its personal fucking goal to suck everything right out of you And you only job is not lettin' it happen."

He chambers a round carefully.

[uncannyaim]

"Depends on the vampire, too, doesn't it?" she asks thoughtfully. She isn't about to tell a near stranger that she lives with one, that she's in love with him, but she knows Spike is different. She wonders if it works that way in Lafayette's world, too, if there are ways for vampires to make conscious choices or if they're all just killing machines. She knows there's a reason Spike is the man he is, she knows it doesn't happen very often where he comes from, but she has to wonder.

"Zombies are pretty much just all death all the time," she says. "They don't even know what they're doing." That's why she's never let any of her loved ones get that far. That's why she's always ended it for them.

"You know, I think you're probably fine for technique," she adds a second later. "You just need to relax."

[voodooqueer]

"My cousin a vampire. Back at home," he says thinly. It's the second time he's admitted to anyone in Darrow that this is the case He wonders why this chick, just some white chick with long blonde hair and a pretty face. Maybe it's that scar of hers, maybe it's her attitude. Maybe it's because she doesn't shrink from approaching a dude she don't know playing with a gun.

"Tara. Partly my fault. If it was less totally fucked the shit up, I actually even say it good for her. Tempted to say so anyway." Laughing it off in deep, breathy chuckles, Lafayette shakes his head, the long earring in one ear tinkling softly on the otherwise empty firing range.

"Relax, huh? Been a long time since I did that, without a blunt 'tween my lips. Or whatever else. You get the idea, I bet. I ain't need to spell it out for you. Sayin' I just need to relax ... a whole lot easier than actually gettin' it done."

[uncannyaim]

Andrea's not a particularly curious person, she's never had to have all the details about how something works, as long as it does work, but when it comes to people, she always wants to know more. She wants to know more without having to supply any information of her own, which isn't fair and so she doesn't ask the things she wants to. Maybe he'll tell her, maybe he won't. Maybe in time, if she gets to know him better, she'll be able to ask more about his cousin.

Before Spike, it probably wouldn't have interested her as much, but now that he's around, she likes learning the nuances of things she never used to understand.

At his next comment, she gives a snort of laughter, then shakes her head. "I mostly just mean make sure you're not holding all your muscles so tight," she says, still grinning. "And I don't think I'm supposed to advocate getting high before coming to the gun range as a teacher, but anything else... I mean, hey, if it works," she teases.

[voodooqueer]

"That a good way to look at things," Lafayette says, relaxing a little at the sound of her laughter. If she can laugh at shit like that, he figures, she an alright lady.

"Least, that's how I always felt. Whatever you gotta do to deal. You wanna go to church every Sunday, fine you wanna go to the gun range and shoot shit, fine. You wanna go home and stand nekkid in front of your fridge and eat your feelings out of an ice cream container, that fine too. And it's all a hell of a lot cheaper than a lifetime of Xanax and a shrink bill."

He snorts. "Different strokes for different folks," he says, turning to aim at the target again, trying to take her advice. Relax your muscles. Slow your breath. Just worry about the target. Don't worry 'bout work, or Sook, or everything at home in Bon fucking Temps. Just worry about how good it'll feel. To hit that target head on.

He pulls the trigger and lets it fly.

[uncannyaim]

There are people she has to really teach, people she has to stand beside and watch every gesture and so she studies Lafayette as he prepares to shoot again and she can tell right away he's not one of those. "Feels better, doesn't it?" she asks after he's taken the shot, a grin curving her lips before she holsters her pistol again. Then she lifts her rifle and sets it comfortably in the hollow of her shoulder as she moves into position at the next target. She looks down the sights and lets out a breath as she squeezes the trigger, the shot hitting dead centre.

There's nothing in the world she's as good at as she is shooting. And there's nothing in the world that makes her feel quite so good.

"I guess you can tell which one of those relaxing situations I'd go for," she says, grinning at him over her shoulder.