[ @thomweaver ]
For a long time, Andie had always admired women who worked while they were pregnant. It must be hard, she thought. Growing a life and going about your day otherwise unphased. Women are kind of badass. And, to be fair, she still thought that way — but now, being pregnant herself, the woman had empathy for those women that she didn’t understand before. Working while carrying a child was physically and emotionally exhausting, especially when everybody in the department seemed to be walking on eggshells around her. This wasn’t always intentionally, she knew this much, but it was clear to her in most interactions that they were treating her differently than they did when she wasn’t obviously expecting. Perhaps her husband had said something to their coworkers, she wasn’t sure — but if one thing was determined, it was her annoyance at the way people were telling her what she could and couldn’t do.
All she wanted to do was fire a gun. Simple enough, she had done so many times before, both in this department and in other countries. It wasn’t a foreign concept to her, certainly not something that scared her given that she had had to get over that pretty quick once joining the army. And now with her workload lightened and her being put on desk duty, the woman had an itch she needed to scratch. So she figured, why not do so in the safe, completely controlled environment of the firing range they had at the department?
But no.
The man at the desk, who she had become quite acquainted with, seemed as though he wasn’t sure if she should be allowed to do such a thing. And so, in typical Andie fashion, she had gone on a long rant to him about feminism and how he didn’t have the right to tell her what she could or couldn’t do — albeit a little dramatic, the poor sod should have known better than to mess with a pregnant, extremely hormonal woman. So, in response, he had called up to her husband who had been asked to come calm down his confrontational wife.
“I’m telling you, I’m not at risk of getting hurt! I’ve fired more guns than you have in my lifetime, buddy. Come on, don’t be a misogynistic pig.” The woman was speaking exuberantly as she felt her husband’s hand meet the small of her back.
“For the love of god, just give her the gun.” Thomas stated with a borderline irate tone. “She’s pregnant, she’s not some walk in off the fucking streets.” Another stern stare, and the rookie manning the range slid the holstered weapon over to his partner. “C’mon, killer.” Thom would smile, hands coaxing on her shoulders as he begins to guide her towards the range. “You know you can’t just yell at people who don’t know how to treat pregnant women. It’s coded in a man’s DNA to freeze in fear the second any woman makes a demand, let along a pregnant one.”
With a good-natured attitude he steps ahead of her to set up the target and send it back to the far wall. “I won’t say I get it, okay? I don’t. I know everyone’s been walking on eggshells around you. I know your body is changing and you can’t control it. But you can’t bite everyone’s head off, baby.”
