Logs:Committee Against Asshole Squirrels

Committee Against Asshole Squirrels
Dramatis Personae Akihiro, Elliott, Noah	2019-09-26 "Do you put the fear of God in your squirrels? Because here, they kind of bully us."
Location West Side Rifle & Pistol Range
There have been few things in the city so far that Noah has Liked. Finding a shooting range not far from his and Joy's apartment is one of them. He sold all of his guns before moving up north, partially for the money and partially to avoid any legal hassle. Sometimes he regrets that. Like when he has to fight off asshole city squirrels from stealing his food during his lunch break; maybe if he still had his Browning, Asshole City Squirrels might remember that they're food, at least where he comes from. There are times he really misses Georgia. He's currently sitting down at an otherwise empty table between the lobby and range to load bullets into the empty magazine of a rented handgun, dressed in dirty, worn jeans, boots covered in dried mud, a black tee that reads 'Edleson Landscaping' with the corresponding business info stretched across his shoulders. Half of his hair is pulled back into a messy stub of a ponytail to keep it out of his eyes as his bends over his task, mindlessly humming a Gary Allan song. "With all due respect, I know I look young, but I know exactly what I'm doing." Akihiro reassures the staff as he heads over with the handgun he's rented for the evening. Taking a seat he opens the case and falls silent, eyes on the Beretta M1951 inside. Acting on more instinct than his own volition he disassembles the gun and gives it a once over before reassembling it and loading the magazine. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" he says softly, more to the gun than anybody present. This seems to be enough to convince the staff that he isn't actually faking, and they leave him alone for the time being. There concern doesn't seem to be unfounded though, as the man looks to be in his early twenties and on the athletic side of slim. Today he has his hair styled in a pompadour and is sporting a black t-shirt, faded jeans, and a scruffy pair of combat boots. Noah watches the display out of the corner of his eyes, steadily continuing with his own task. He's still figuring out New York rules of conversation. Does he greet the other person, or wait for them to initiate a conversation? Should their even be conversation? Most of the time, people seem too busy for it. "Beretta fan?" he finally asks, his voice a quiet rumble, drenched with southern Georgia drawl. "Fan?" Akihiro asks, not looking up just yet. His voice doesn't have any real accent to pin down just where he's from. "Not a fan, but I've used this model a few times. Guess it's some misplaced nostalgia." As soon as the gun is loaded he chambers a round and makes sure the safety is engaged. Finally looking over he takes Noah in, "Shoot often?" There's some quiet conversation outside the door; when it opens it admits a tall and broadly muscular tan-skinned woman dressed all in black, her hair pulled up into a severe bun and a Glock 26 holstered at her hip. She doesn't join the others at the table, though. Just waits quietly against the wall as another woman -- slightly younger, slightly shorter, less broad shouldered, her hair tied back in a neat French braid -- walks in. Dressed in a smartly tailored blue blouse and grey slacks, her gait is just slightly uneven as she makes her way to the table. Offers the others a warm smile as she sets her own case down, opening it up to start disassembling, examining, reassembling her firearm, the motions smooth and practiced. "Nostalgia?" Elliott's dark eyes are openly curious as she looks Akihiro over, her brows lifting in mild inquisition. Noah shakes his head, about to verbally answer when the door opens and-- a bodyguard walks in. He's trying to figure that out when the answer herself follows. He... didn't expect he would be meeting the Mayor today. Suddenly, he very much wishes he had tried harder to clean the dirt off of his boots. At a loss for anything else to do, he nods in return to her smile. (Why can't Joy be here. She's so much better at talking.) "You must both be former military," he offers, hesitant, after a mad mental scramble for something to say. "The way you handle guns." "Something like that." Akihiro answers Noah, before looking back at Elliott. "It was the first gun I really used." he dodges the question and gives the piece one last look over. Unlike the other man he doesn't actually seem to catch the importance of the more muscled woman, writing her off as somebody wealthy enough to have an assistant. "I'm Akihiro by the way. Good to meet you." "Elliott. Navy," Elliott answers easily. "Your first? That's an interesting starter, they haven't even been in production for what --" She's eyeing Akihiro thoughtfully, here. "Forty years? Family heirloom?" She's nodding toward Akihiro's gun. Then turning her same easy smile to Noah. "You been in the city long?" "In good condition for a gun that old," Noah comments. "Akihiro, huh?" He stumbles some over the name, drawling out the syllables, before offering a large, calloused hand out for a handshake. "Name's Noah. Been in the city maybe... half a year now?" The last is directed at Elliott, with some surprise. It feels like so much longer. "Like how you're runnin' things, ma'am, gotta say." “Yeah, my father’s.” Akihiro lies easily, “If I’m being honest I learned the sword and bow first.” He reaches out and takes the hand in a surprisingly firm shake. “I feel like I should know who you are.” This is directed back to Elliott. "Oh!" Elliott's smile brightens, a tinge of amusement in her voice. "I can't get you to say that in front of a camera, can I? The press has been having a /field/ day with this sanctuary city business. How are you liking it here? I know New York can be a lot if you aren't used to it." When she looks back to Akihiro, it's with a very small lift of brows. "Really are old school, huh?" Her tone continues just as warm as she adds on, "Only if you plan to vote. Otherwise -- I'm just another citizen here for target practice." Cheeks pink, Noah shakes his head. "Not me, no," he answers, a small, shy grin curling across his face. "Could ask my- girlfriend." He nearly said wife. Christ, Hunter, you ain't even asked yet. "I bet she'd be more than glad to." When the... other citizen and her bodyguard had come in, Noah had stopped loading the magazine to his rented gun; he starts that up again while thinking about how to answer Elliot's question. "It is a lot," he answers, loading the magazine once he's done. "Louder than I expected. And I ain't ever seen squirrels that weren't scared of people. But there's a hell of a lot that's better here than back home." There's a short pause before Noah looks back at Akihiro. "I'm sorry, did you say sword?" "I’ve been told that a few times.” Akihiro scratches at his cheek. It’s about this time he realizes Elliott is the mayor and he mouthes a wordless “Oh.” “I’ve trained in Katori Shinto-Ryu my entire life. My adoptive father’s family really cared about tradition.” Noah gets a small nod. “It is a lot. Lot of sounds, lot of smells.” A slight pause. “But you’ll adjust quickly enough.” "What's better here? Where's home?" Elliot's hands have braced against the table, to either side of the gun that now sits there. "Do you put the fear of God in your squirrels? Because here, they kind of bully us. It's not a good look, honestly. Not half so brazen as the pigeons, though. I think they're the toughest New Yorkers of them all." She tips her head towards Akihiro in acknowledgment. "Can be loud, can feel weirdly isolating for how many people are always around. But finding good friends, good community, that's the real secret here." Noah nods at Akihiro's words, not even noticing if anything he said was odd. The city in the height of summer had an absolute Scent. "I'm gettin' there. Adjustin'. What is... that thing you trained in?" Ain't even gonna try. He checks the safety on his gun, grins when Elliot mentions the squirrels. "S'funny, really, how this place got a thing about... 'experiencin' the excitement of firing a .22 caliber rifle.' That's the caliber I used to hunt squirrels with back home in Georgia. Want t'make the squirrels leave you alone, gonna have to change some laws first." Noah doesn't respond to Elliott's last words, but they turn around in his mind. Friends and community. He's trying. Isn't he? “It’s the sword style I’ve mastered.” Akihiro gives his own pistol one last once-over before nodding. “Well, not mastered. Guess I’ll never really master it while we have these.” He taps the gun once before pushing to his feet. “Good friends are good to have. It’s a real lonely world.”