PHD 254: Smile and the World Smiles With You
Smile and the World Smiles With You
Summary: Dell attempts to be civil while Marissa attempts to coax a smile.
Date: PHD 254
Related Logs: None.

Dell is in his second home, the firing range, the 'surly little marine that could' is almost always training in this room as he brings back his target that is full of holes. He glances at each hit and he grunts in approval as he tears the target down and he puts a fresh target up in its place as he resets the range.

The hatch opens and shuts quickly, to keep the din out of the rest of the ship. Mimi Delann slips on her hearing protection, moving slowly down the list of practice stalls, frowning thoughtfully as she looks at their condition.
Until she gets to one, anyway. The occupant, the only other person on the range at the moment, is unfortunately familiar. Mimi frowns and backtracks to another stall, setting her makeshift range bag on the counter and beginning to extract her two pistols.

Dell has a pistol and a rifle signed out at the moment. He lifts the rifle first and he begins firing off a series of shots four in a row - and by the looks of it he isn't even aiming by the sights on the rifle but by sheerly eyeballing it. Three shots hit the chest and one shot hits the forhead of the paper cylon menace. The Marine grunts again as he puts the safety on the rifle and he looks over as Marissa arrives, he squints his eyes for a moment as he remembers just who the woman is and then he remembers she is an officer and so he says in with a gruff baritone voice, "Sir."

"Carry on," Mimi replies, equally reluctantly. "And don't let your face freeze that way, huh?" She turns back to her weapons, the service pistol first.
And muffs it completely, trying to load the less-familiar weapon. Cartridges scatter all over the counter, some falling to the floor. Sighing disgustedly at herself for being so rattled, Mimi sets her weapon facing downrange and stoops to pick up the ammo. Which puts her behind out past the stall partitions… thank the Lords nobody's watching. Hopefully.

Dell can't see but he can hear all of the comotion going on over where Marissa is and he calls back, "Nice to know you worry about my face, sir." He then takes a moment to pick up the pistol and the safety is off and fires three shots in roughly less than a second each one travels up the cylon target from the croch to the forhead and all in a straight line. The safety is back on and the firearm is placed on his partition stylish he isn't but efficient he is.

"It's not a bad face, if you're not scowling it up into a mess all the time," Mimi calls back, hints of frustration in her voice. Cartridges are tiny things, and, like collar buttons, tend to roll into incredibly inaccessible spots. The Ensign is reduced to kneeling on the floor, shoulders down, and picking them out from under the bottoms of the partitions, which aren't precisely on the floor. She finally collects them all and climbs to her feet. Loading the weapon proves much easier this time, returning a smile to her face. CHA-CLACK!

"I need to kill a few more toasters before I stop scowling, sir." He doesn't shoot for a moment as he waits to see how the officer will do with a gun. As for the cartridges on the floor there is a bit of a frown since he will probably be cleaning the range later and inspections are not so much fun. He puts his hands in his pockets and he pulls out a candy bar as he unwraps roughly the first half of the bar to take a bite out of it and to watch the show.

"If you wait that long, the damage might be done before you can stop," Mimi replies, settling into her stance, relaxed and confident. Firearms might not be her forte, but she knows the basics pretty well.
BKAM! BKAM! BKAM! The service pistol booms three times rapidly, and holes appear in the target downrange. Mimi smiles at the result. A two-inch grouping. For her first session in a month, not bad at all.

@emit As shots are fired eyes drift over to the officers target, "Sadly, if my face is stuck in a scowl thousands of women will be heartbroken." He deadpans as there is no ego in this but as each shot connects he adds, "Not bad, sir." He takes another bite out of his candy bar as he is content in watching Marissa fire.

As shots are fired eyes drift over to the officers target, "Sadly, if my face is stuck in a scowl thousands of women will be heartbroken." He deadpans as there is no ego in this but as each shot connects he adds, "Not bad, sir." He takes another bite out of his candy bar as he is content in watching Marissa fire.

"You say that like it's a /good/ thing," Marissa says, giving Dell an arch look. "For all we know, we're the last of the Human race. No dating, no mating. No mating, no kids. No kids, no /us/. And quick." She raises the weapon again. "What scares me is it seems like almost nobody is seeing this." BKAM! BKAM! BKAM!

Dell takes another bite out of his candy bar and as food is in his mouth he responds, "An enemy that wants to kill us means no kids that will live. So, we smoke those metal bastards and then we frak until we get a bunch of kidlets running around." He finishes his candy bar up as he adds, "Good shots, sir." And he picks up his pistol and fires off another vollet of rounds, three shots, all of them connect this time he hits both shoulders and one shot goes into the paper eye of the cylon target.

"Thank you… woo! He won't be playing the piano again. And good plan, if we weren't facing an enemy with better tech and numbers beyond belief, who can build more faster than we can knock 'em off. It's like this shooting gallery: knock 'em down as you will, there'll be just as many when you lower the gun." She ejects her clip, check the load spring position, then slaps it back in. "I'm not trying to be a defeatist, but that's the reality of what we're fighting. I'm really starting to wonder if we can win." BKAM!
Nothing happens on the next pull of the trigger. Mimi blinks and tilts the gun over the stray brass tray, chambering another round and letting the squib rattle in amonst the empties. She aims again and fires off two more. Still shooting a nice, tight group, except for that last one, which was high and outside.

Dell watches the one outside shot and he sniffs as he adds, "Well, maybe they are building faster than you can knock 'em off." He raises his pistol again and this time he gets two more solid hits to the chest followed by a heavy thump. Wait, is he making a patern with the bullets, looks like he is making a smiley face on the toasters chest. "And so long as you can point me at them or land me near them we can win, ooh-rah."

Mimi doesn't reply, but that roll of her eyes is practically audible. Marines… that brickheaded, hard-charger attitude gets them through, but it can get them stacked like cordwood when the odds get too high. She just pulls the trigger three more times and sighs, beginning to unload the weapon. "I hate this thing…" she mutters. "Look at it wrong and it jams, and it's too light."

Dell has the safety on his firearm and he places it down and he walks over to where Mimi is, "Lemme take a look." He says as he walks over to acctually look at the pistol.

Mimi sighs and hands it to him, empty. "It's not jammed /now/. I just can't stand the thing." She turns back to her counter and lifts her other weapon, her XiX. With much surer hands, she begins loading the weapon.

Dell takes the gun and the first thing he does is drop the cartridge which he catches as it falls. Quick check to the chamber, no bullet, and with that he begins checking the guns parts, "Ah, see, this is your poblem." He points to a spring in the trigger, "See, it is a bit dirty is all." He takes the pistol over to a table in the room and he cleans off the bit of residue, never send a pilot to do a marines work as he makes sure the pistol is properly cleaned and ready to go. Though when Marissa pulls out the big gun he says, "See, I had something like that back on Scorpia."

"I was there. I had this one," Mimi replies with a little smile, snapping the safety off and aiming. She doesn't spare the other gun a glance.
BAKOOM! BAKOOM! BAKOOM! The Dragon's booming report fills the practice area with just three shots. Recoil nudges Mimi's aim off a bit at the last, but the rest of the group is tight, within one inch. She smiles at the result. "Better."

Dell finishes with the cleaning and he puts the gun back together as he walks over to the firing range and with Marissa's sidearm and he without little more than a glance he fires three shots and all three shots hit the torso of the cylon target, "Problem solved." He watches as her heavy shots hit and he puts the safety on and he walks over to Mimi setting her sidearm down.

"Not really… I'm required to carry it," Mimi mutters. "Thanks." She shifts a bit out of the way so he can set it down on the counter, an awkward move in this tight stall that has her up against one partition.

The pistol is placed down and he looks at the firearm, "Well, that is because normally you won't have to use the big guns," He looks over at his assault rifle, "Would you like to try shooting it, sir?" Whoa, Dell almost sounded kind the for a moment, well, less gruff than he normally does.

Mimi frowns at the despised Picon FN and then looks over at the rifle. "Would the range personnel mind?" she asks. Officers ask the silliest things, don't they? Though that quick, almost guilty glance at the range surveillance window hints at some real worry.

"Well, you could make it like an order I suppose and then there isn't much I can do about it, sir." He throws his head over to the rabge personnel and he sniffs just sort of standing there, "Remember, you're navy, sir, you out rank everyone in the room right now." Dell stands there with his hands behind his back as he stands at the ready position though his head is looking up at the crappy lights in the range.

"I guess I do…" It's apparent that such abuse of her authority probably hasn't occurred to the dark-haired Ensign before. She looks almost comically longingly at the long-gun. "Invitation accepted. And that's an order," she adds with a conspiratorial grin. "I'll need to unload these first. No need to give them a /real/ reason to scream at me, considering we're already in a gray area of the rules."

"The SMI eighty was first developed by the Scorpia Military Industries and as you know, sir, the eighty is one of the standard combat rifles used by military personnel. As you can see, it has a bullpup design, and you might notice that with the pistol grip forward of the magazine and the firing mechanism in the buttstock which allows for a long, accurate, free-floating barrel even though the design is compact. It fires a Five Point Five Six by Fourty Five milimeter round from a magazine that can hold up to thirty rounds. Most SMI Eightys are equipped with a Four times optical sight with a powered glowing pointer for limited night sight." Dell spits out this information as simply as if he was breathing, "Also, watch the kick." He says as he takes a step back, "Would you like a demonstration first, sir?"

Mimi, finally able to step away from the partition, starts to turn back to her counter, but is brought up short by something pulling at her waist. She frowns and reaches back, freeing her sweats from a magazine pouch hook, and unloads her two pistols quickly, stowing the loose shells for later sorting-out, then the guns themselves. "Coming!" She hurries to catch up to Dell.
The infodump is somewhat welcome, as it's been a long time since she's handled a rifle. But the controls seem familiar, even if they're not in the same places. "So it's put together backwards, but it's shorter and it works," she says with an impish smile, trying to tease the serious Marine. "I think I've got it."
She picks up the rifle carefully, setting it to her shoulder before chambering a round. The position of the bolt makes this uncomfortable and a little tricky. Then she leans forward, bracing her elbow on the counter and squeezing off her first shot.
She flinches just a little. It's louder than she'd remembered, this close up. But her next two shots improve, the last one puncturing the faceplate of the Cylon Centurion target.

Dell watches the pilot shoot, "Not bad, for an officer." It is oddly enough admirable on his part though however he adds, "Why don't you take another couple of shots, sir, for fun." His eyes glance down at some bareskin and some very non-standard issue underwear and his face unfurrows a lot, in fact, he isn't smiling but his face is neutral and he is taking a looky-look, regs be damned, a dude is a dude.

"Good enough for Virgon," Mimi quips, referring to the many, many action films made on that once-beautiful planet. "Oh, thank you. I think I will. This monster's fun!" She flips a switch on the side of the weapon and pulls the trigger.
The report of the weapon makes it plain that that's /definitely/ not semi-automatic fire! Mimi staggers a bit under the successive recoil of about six shots, more than she'd intended to use. "Whoa!" She looks down at the weapon with new respect. "Ugly but interesting. You Marines just get all the good toys, don't you?" she adds, turning a delighted smile on Dell.

Dell almost doen't look up as Marissa looks back at him though he barely manages to do so, still though his facial features are lighter, though still not smiling. "Well it is a useful rifle to use when attempting to see the red light on a centurions eyes go out." The marine manages not to grunt this out as his eyes go back to the distraction at hand. "One of those and some grenades and you can frak stuff up." Still not looking at the gun as his mouth is talking but his head is elsewhere, "As for toys, you get to fly around in those metal ships and carry us around that makes us your defacto toys."

Mimi giggles. "You're the action figures, though. You get to do all the cool stuff with the enemy action figures. We just fly the carry-case," she replies, enjoying the banter. Until she follows his gaze downward, anyway. She blinks as she realizes what he's looking at, but that impish smile crosses her face again, and she turns back to the range, taking advantage of Dells distraction to fire another burst. Her shooting is about as accurate as before, but it's only four shots this time. She's learning.

Dell "Action toys, uh-huh." Clearly Dell is distracted since he isn't giving some impassioned speech about wanting to kill cylons and everyone doing their part. He isn't giving a speech about the joys of getting shot at. No, he is simply standing there enjoying a sight that he rarely gets to see very often. She could shoot two or three clips for all Triptolemus cares and he offers, "You get to be the premium line, sir, we are just the nameless, faceless grunts. Hell, if they made a show about this they'd talk all about the pilots and how awesome theey are."

"They made shows about Marines, too," Mimi reminds him. "I used to watch /Short-Timers/ back home. It came on right after /Wings Of Fury/." She begins unloading the weapon as she speaks. "So if there was a show made about this ship, they'd have to get Marines, too. How they train, how they fight, how they live… how they stare at a pilot's panties," she adds, just to see if he's listening. And trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, they stare at a pilot's panties." Dell says as if he were simply repeating a grocery list but then the little imaginary bow above his head that has a stick stuck in the middle and a piece of wood underneath begins moving very quickly and OH HO the fire starts and there is light and Dell says, "And the pilots leave themselves in positions to be looked at." He finally looks away, "Short-Timers, ain't nothing short time about me. I've got to kill all the cylons so I can find clean land to farm. We need to eat."

Mimi laughs, a good, high-spirited, sound of pure enjoyment, tarnished with just a hint of fun at Dell's expense, as she sets the empty rifle down. "I thought you were going to burn a hole in my back." She reaches down and hooks her waistband with her thumb, giving the embarrassed Marine a quick flash of pink stars on white before she tugs her pants back up properly. "Know of any good farming plots, Young MacDonald? I think we'd have to look someplace besides the Colonies, now. Radiation's not good for plant life, any more than it is for animal life."

Dell sniffs the air, defeated and used, hardly since he is clearly the winner in this little exchange he got a show and Marissa got to shoot the big guns, "I looked, I'm a dude, your kinda hot, so I did what I had to do." He shrugs as he gets the flash his mouth twitches and he almost, almost smiles and that is the closest that he has ever come to smiling on the Hestia. He then looks up at the ceiling, "Well, maybe we could find another planet? Or we could grab some soil and clean it out and with proper lighting I could grow something here." He starts doing the math, "However for this many people I would need a helluvalotta land." He offers, "So, if we find this planet you can get your babies and I can get my farm."

Mimi's eyes widen a bit and she laughs again, this time out of pure enjoyment. "That was a smile! I made you smile!" She /almost/ hugs him, and her hands even start to come up, but she quickly turns the motion into a couple of cheerleader toe-bounces, hands over her head. "Woo! Hey, Private Triptolemus smiled!" Because you just /can't/ keep news like this to yourself.

Dell looks over, "Smile? I have no idea what you are taking about." He says as then as she bounces closer he says, "So you want me to reload the rifle so you can fire her up again?" He asks attempting to change the subject since he doesn't want anyone to know he even hinted at something approaching a smile. The surly marine has a reputation to maintain here - no one has heard him laugh either though. However, he raises his chin slightly since Marissa remembered his last name and most people call him Trip or Dell, mostly Priavate.

"I could reload it if I wanted to shoot more," Mimi replies, still almost glowing. A good mood in her is like electricity in a light bulb. She turns back to the counter to demonstrate, finding a handful of loose rounds and sliding them into the partially-used magazine, then another. Her attempt is a little clumsy with lack of practice with larger rounds, but it's plain she knows what she's doing. She tops off the magazine, then locks it into the gun and touches the bolt pull, showing she knows where it is. "See?"

"We'll make an action figure out of you yet, sir." He says as good naturedly as he can which is still gruff, but coming from the husky voice of Dell it still sounds a bit lighter than normal. He isn't smiling but his features for now remain neuteral which means the furrow is gone and that in and of itself is a feet for anyone to get out of the marine. The last person to pull that off was the Padre and that is only because Dell is a religious type. "Maybe you should have considered going into the marines instead."

"I'm a lot better pilot than I am a grunt," Mimi replies. "So I'd better stick to that. But at least I won't be completely useless on the ground, right?" She sets the gun down, with the chamber still empty, and slides the magazine out. "Here ya go." She smiles once more. "Thanks for the lesson. And for smiling. You should do it more often. S'good for ya."

Dell takes the gun back, "Smile? You keep using that word." He shakes his head as aparently he is the King of Denial - techincally he didn't smile though he came close, very close. As the gun is placed in proper care he says, "Just do your best to train with your sidearm and we will keep you alive because if you die then I will have to work even harder to kill toasters when I run out of bullets."

"How nice. I'm the delivery girl," Mimi says with good-natured sarcasm. "Stay alive, Marine. We can't build more." She collects her the old toe bag she's converted into a range bag and slips out the door, her rubber practice ammo in hand, ready to turn in.

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