Participants:
| Scene Title | Target Practice |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Liz and Lee meet up in the firing range. |
| Date | March 22, 2009 |
The New York Police Department Head Quarters is an old stone building, rennovated many times over the years. The plaster walls are not as cracked and in need of repair as the various Precinct buildings around the city. The fluorescent lights give the room a rather sterile glow. Old posters, civic reminders, duty rosters and newspaper clippings are tacked up on the walls, rustling every time one of the doors opens. A high, wooden desk sits on the north wall, manned by two clerks, who records all visitors and arrests.
The way out to the street lies to the south, while doors to the offices of the Head Quarters lie to the northwest.
The sounds on the firing range are far too loud for too much conversation except between clips. Elisabeth's not down here as often as some, but today she's in a good mood and feeling like shooting just for the sake of it. She's just finishing up a clip and ejecting it when the door opens behind her. The earphones mask the sounds of the range to protect hearing, but it's not like she even really needs it. She could silence the weapon without it. But she'd rather do it the normal way. She looks toward the door with the empty clip in her hand, and smiles faintly, nodding in greeting.
Leland Daubrey is here for alternate reasons. He comes here when he needs to blow off steam. He has a pair of earphones on when he steps in, and a pair of safety goggles as well. He carries a box of ammo and nods towards Liz as he takes up residence in the lane next to hers. He doesn't say anything because, well, he's not the world's best conversationalist.
Setting the pistol she's using down on the ledge before her, Liz starts reloading her clips after hitting the button to bring her target back up to her. She's gone through three clips, and the groupings are reasonable if not stellar. So now she merely watches him get ready while she reloads the clips for her own next round, interested to see how he does.
Leland may not be the best interrogator, the best gladhander (as Felix says), but if there's one thing he does know how to do, it's shoot a gun. The way the groupings hit as he unloads the clip, suggest the three arm shots and four chest shots were entirely intentional. The look on his face as he shoots is one of a man who is cool, calm and in control. He may have a temper, but not when it comes to the important parts of his job.
There's a pursing of her lips when she watches him, and Liz replaces her target to send it down to the end of the range after he's done. "Particular reason you chose an arm shot?" she asks.
Leland eyes the target, then glances back to Liz. He lifts a shoulder, then reloads his gun. "Practicing putting the bullets where I want 'em to go. Arm's narrow, tricky to hit."
Elisabeth pops the clip into her weapon and nods. "Okay," she replies with a faint grin. She takes a stance and starts shooting. It's a ten-round clip. This time, though her grouping is still reasonable, it's insufficient for an arm hit — which is what she attempted, just to see if she could. Two of the first five hit in the arm, the other three scattered outside the outline or else in the chest. Choosing the other arm, this time of the five, one clips the outline itself, three outside and one in the arm. "Yeah…. that sucks," she tells Lee with a grin.
"That's all right. You've got a reason to not be much of a shooter." Yes, that was a dig at her Evolved status. Oddly mumbled though. Almost a polite insult. Like something he'd throw at Felix. He lifts his pistol and fires off a series of shots again. A few of the groupings are off, but for the most part he seems able to hit just where he intends to. He's spent a lot of hours in here over the years.
Elisabeth ejects the clip and puts another one in. "Yes… I do. I've only ever had to pass quals, haven't been on the streets in about five years, Lee. Two of them on hiatus, three as a negotiator." Her words are calm — they're not excuses. She's never been a shooter, except in terms of the time she spent being a uniform on the street. She takes the second set of shots, choosing lower leg shots this time. Her first group, she gets three into the leg, two right at the kneecap (above and below). The second group, only one hits, the rest are scattered outside the outline. "Still… I'm thinking I need to get better than that."
Leland glances to her, then back to his own range. "You need to exhale as you fire. Otherwise your breathing shakes the barrel and throws your shots off-target. Plus you drop your elbow. You're fine for a few, then your elbow starts driftin'." He lifts his own weapon. His stance and arm position are rock-soild. He exhales, squeezes the trigger. Two bullets. Double-tap right between the eyes.
Elisabeth doesn't really even realize that she used Felix's name for him. She tips her head and considers his advice. Replacing the clip with the third one, she pauses, mentally assessing her stance and how he's critiqued it. The she's more careful in squeezing off the last ten rounds carefully. Her shots are better this time around throat shots that are at least all within the outline of the body (though only two at the throat, the rest in the head or torso). She sets the weapon down.
Leland nods once in approval. "Better. You just need more practice. You'll know it when you hit the sweet spot. S'like you can tell the bullet where you want it to go and it just goes there." Sort of like deadly meditation. If he's bothered by being called Lee, he doesn't show it. Better than 'prick' or 'bastard.'
Elisabeth hrms and takes her headset off. "I'll keep in mind," she says with a faint smile. "You going to be down here long?"
Leland checks the contents of his clip. "No. This is my coffee break." Figures. He's always working. At home, it's cooking. Here, it's honing his cop skills. He doesn't really have any hobbies outside of those two things.
Elisabeth nods to him. "If you wouldn't mind taking on a pupil, I could use a bit of time down here getting better. Not on your coffee break, though — ten minutes at a time is not as helpful as an hour of your time."
Leland hits the button to bring the target up and tugs the earmuffs off his head. "Mmphn. I'm sure you could find a better teacher than me." And a more patient one to boot. Or a more encouraging one. Or a nicer one.
Elisabeth gives Leland a look. "There are a couple people, I'm quite sure — like Bolivar Smith. He's a sniper. But I don't want to learn to be a sniper, I want to be a better shot. And you're good at it. I don't need to be mollycoddled, just instructed, Daubrey." She grins a bit and gestures him to go ahead and precede her out of the firing range, carrying her empty clips, unloaded pistol, and headgear with her. "Besides… I figure if I'm going to see you around a good bit, might as well get to know you better before I give you a lot of shit."
Leland's only real response to that is a grunt. He starts to walk out of the range after disposing of his target. "Nfh. I'll think about it." The ear guards and protective goggles are shelved as he makes his way back out into the main part of the station.
"Thanks," is Liz's reply to Leland. She heads back toward the main squad room to put her spare clips in her desk drawer and take out the one that's sitting in the drawer still loaded to put in her gun before tucking it back into her waistband. It'll need a good cleaning tonight.
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