[To the bar it is. The place is a mess after everything, but there's plenty of flammable shit in the wreckage. And there's always been something about fire that puts Ephemera at ease. It's calming in its certainty. Fire doesn't think or react. It just is.
And he likes the sound, anyway.
He's got his helmet off, tucked under one arm, when Kyna arrives.]
[Ephemera tips his head to the side, watching her. Then flashes her a bright grin and disengages the flame thrower. Then he pops off the gauntlet and holds it out to her.]
[Kyna takes the gauntlet from him and slides it onto her hand, shooting him a smile. There are two unfortunate things about this: One, Kyna is used to aiming spells, which takes just a thought, and two, the gauntlet is too big for her. She finds the trigger anyway, points the flamethrower at the table, and shoots.
[Generally, operating a flame thrower takes at least three hours of instruction, careful supervision, and protective gear. Ephemera did intend to give Kyna a brief once-over of how the gauntlet works, but she has it on and aimed before he can think up the right words.
[And obviously that's all she needs! She tries again, being much more careful with her aim this time, and actually manages to hit the table, letting out a delighted laugh.]
[Despite fully intending to mock Kyna for her lack of punching ability, Ephemera laughs with real delight when she hits the target. Flames hiss. He likes the sound. The way the wood gets scorched and blackened. How it wilts a little as it burns. Everything exactly as it should be.]
[He assumed it would be, for some reason. Probably because of the argument they had on Kyna's doorstep not so long ago, where he learned how awesome Washington was in bed.
Yeah, not going there.]
I said some stuff. Before. That I shouldn't have. I'm. Sorry about that.
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And he likes the sound, anyway.
He's got his helmet off, tucked under one arm, when Kyna arrives.]
Hey.
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[She approaches him, holding out a hand and wiggling her fingers.]
Can I see? What Wash did, I mean.
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So far it hasn't blown up in my face. Just need to make sure the everything meshes with my HUD's calibrations.
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[It's pretty neat.]
How does it work?
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[Everybody's learning something new.
Ephemera shrugs, stepping back and pointing his arm at a pile of splintered wood. It might have been a table once.]
Trigger mechanism's in my gauntlets. Point and shoot.
[He demonstrates. Flame snaps out with a roar, overshooting the target by a good eight inches.]
....motherfucker. I knew it was off.
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Maybe your aim just sucks.
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[Ephemera flashes her a grin. It's teasing, no actual malice.]
Hell, I've only got the one eye. My aim is awesome.
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[Her only proof of this is cheesy action movies.]
And hell yes, I'm going to do better.
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[Ephemera tips his head to the side, watching her. Then flashes her a bright grin and disengages the flame thrower. Then he pops off the gauntlet and holds it out to her.]
Cool. Prove it.
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And, of course, overshoots by about a foot.]
Shit. That didn't count.
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Well, that works too.
Ephemera laughs, clapping.]
You sure? That's your last free one.
[He pauses.]
Straighten your arm a bit more. Try again.
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Like this?
[Admittedly, she's a little stiff.]
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Do like you're throwing a punch. Don't lock your elbow. And bend your knees.
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I don't know how to throw a punch.
[But she follows his advice anyway. Better!]
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[Doesn't she fight for a living???
Ephemera hums to himself.]
Better. Give that a try. But we have to fix the punching thing.
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[And obviously that's all she needs! She tries again, being much more careful with her aim this time, and actually manages to hit the table, letting out a delighted laugh.]
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There you go!
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[Ephemera gestures for the gauntlet.]
We're gonna fix that. Like, now.
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[Hopefully he didn't expect to get out of this hang out session without shit talking.]
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Nah. You'd fuck up the fuel canisters. Which your boyfriend just fixed.
[Is Washington her boyfriend? It only occurs to Ephemera to wonder after he's said it.
Oh. Fuck. Uh.]
....nevermindgiveithere.
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What's wrong?
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That's not my business.
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[The boyfriend thing?]
I don't care if you ask. Or talk about it.
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...oh.
[He assumed it would be, for some reason. Probably because of the argument they had on Kyna's doorstep not so long ago, where he learned how awesome Washington was in bed.
Yeah, not going there.]
I said some stuff. Before. That I shouldn't have. I'm. Sorry about that.
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