mingle bells, mingle bells, mingle all the way...

[evildetector]

Who: The SS First Breath & any visitors!
Broadcast: Nah.
Action: All over the First Breath!
When: Throughout the month of March.

[ it's a march mingle! let's rub shoulders yo. ]

Comments

[tallasaking]

Ask me for more bullets?

[Came the dry reply, as Tyrion looked at him with a completely blank face. Then he arched an eyebrow, his expression becoming thoughtful.]

Would you like me to make you a new different weapon? Perhaps a bow and arrow - I am learning how to perfect these.

[vagabond_code]

[It's not that he isn't tempted, but the serendipity of this whole setup feels like some sort of trap.]

Just one arrow?

[And anyway something about this guy just irks him. He seems like the sort who is used to getting what he wants, and getting it easy. It runs counter to Clint's own philosophy, which boils down to the idea that you have to make your own stuff work. If he was going to get a bow, it would be through his own effort, not by someone else's charity.]

You're Tyrion, aren't you?

[He pronounces it a little funny, like TEER-ee-on. Just go with it.]

[tallasaking]

[Tyrion looked up at him with one eyebrow raised.]

Yes. Just one arrow. I hope you're good with just one shot.

[Deadpan expression, the entire way through. Honestly, when it came from him he would understand the suspicion. When it came from the Captain though? Come on, that's just paranoia.]

Yes, that is my name.

[Mostly.]

[vagabond_code]

[Nova had recommended Tyrion for another thing entirely, but still, the fact that she'd recommended him at all meant something.]

I don't need anything complicated.

[And he couldn't stress enough how much he didn't want to blow out the side out of one of these ships.]

Can you do knives? Or darts? I gotta be able to re-use them, so they're no good if they blunt after one throw. And they gotta be able to take a beating. I won't just be putting holes in cork boards.

[tallasaking]

[Tyrion's mismatched eyes narrowed in interest at the man's requesti, and out of his back pocket he pulls out a small notepad.]

Nothing complicated ... just some simple throwing blades.

[He hummed softly, as he started to sketch.]

I can do both, but I will need to know what sort of metal you prefer. Steel is more reliable, less likely to blunt, and take a beating.

[vagabond_code]

Hey I'm not a blacksmith. I'm just a guy who's seen some shoddy knives.

[tallasaking]

How unfortunate for you - I do not make shoddy knives. Only good ones. Will you be able to survive?

[vagabond_code]

That depends, how many guns have you handed out exactly?

[And on the Captain's orders? Maybe he should be going to her with his concerns.]

[tallasaking]

One to each member of the crew.

[Is Tyrion's utterly non-plussed response. They were all modern folk, they knew how to use guns.]

[vagabond_code]

Is it loaded?

[The one in Tyrion's hand, Clint means. How can he be so nonchalant about this?]

[tallasaking]

Well yes, but you only have six bullets. I've left the safeties on so they don't go off accidentally.

[He pointed to where the safety was engaged.] From what I have read, these things can be temperamental.

[vagabond_code]

It only takes one.

[He didn't catch the word 'temperamental', but at this point it hardly mattered.]

[tallasaking]

One would hope so, if one's aim is at all sufficient.

[Really, so ungrateful.] If you don't want the gun, you don't have to have one. I'll work on your knives instead.