She balances the weight of it in her palm, hefting it up, and down, a few times, before holding it upright to pop the cylinder in, and out; all the while wearing the same… unreadable expression. Seemingly satisfied, she gives the revolver one more once-over from barrel to grip before confirming the safety in place and resting it in her lap. He’s still working on his; a full, dutiful deconstruction and cleaning of a shotgun– well, not just a shotgun; he’s given it a name, hasn’t he? it’s… special. A thought which still boggles her a little, but everyone has something.
Lack of passion for weaponry or no, it’s still an interesting process to watch, and one she knew she’d have no gift for. Years of practice and dedication, no doubt, had made his movements clean, efficient, and certain.
“ Did somebody teach ya’ how t’do that? ” she asks, softly, hoping it doesn’t draw him out of the quiet reverie he seemed to enter when working, “ I only learned how t’handle a gun when I started trainin’ before my application a few years back, so it’s kinda crazy t’watch ya’ take that whole thing apart and put it back together… have y’just always been ‘round ‘em? Or didja just…. I dunno, pick it up one day? ”
Vaughn had been in his own little world, all he could see was the various parts of his gun and the tools he used to clean them, he was currently polishing the main chamber of his gun. Unlike easy’s basic cleaning he dismantled the entire thing down to its base parts and thoroughly cleaned each part. He put the chamber up to his face for once he was wearing glasses, mostly made for seeing if he missed anything. The female’s voice snapped him out of his gun cleaning trance, “Huh, what? Oh, Easy Bake forgot you where there for a second.” This wasn’t the first time he had gone completely in the zone when it came to cleaning, he once was so entranced he didn’t notice that various hours had passed.
“I learned from my commanding officer in basic training, but I made sure to look deeper, I want my gun to be at it’s best and look it’s best.” He’d normally flaunt his favorite firearm but it was in a menagerie of pieces on his desk. “And when I was a kid me ‘n my sister both ha popguns and pretended to be soldiers, something just felt right about holding that thing y’know. Maybe that’s why I became a soldier.”
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