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"Yura, what the hell do you not understand? What are you thinking?" Sanya's face flushed with frustration. "You don't have any plan. You don't have any weapons. You're impulsive sometimes, but this-! Can you at least take a weapon or something?"
"Where do you want me to-"
"You didn't have anywhere to even get weapons!? Well. Sergei has had a gun in the top shelf of his cabinet for the past five years."
Yura smiled incredulously. "You want to steal Sergei's gun."
Sanya sighed. "Yeah." Sergei would probably notice at some point, but Yura could have it for a while.
Sanya's finger slid open the cabinet containing one shiny CZ 75 and lifted the item out of the cabinet, throwing the papers on top of it to the floor. "Got it! Yura, hold this." She passed the gun to the teen standing behind her. "Can you use this?" A clang sounded behind her.
"Yura?"
He was standing behind Sanya, arm stretched out to hold a gun that was on the floor in front of him. He was completely stiff. "Shit, are you okay?" Sanya asked. Yura stared at his hands. He just needed to pick up the gun. Just pick up the gun.
"I just dropped it. Can you give it here?" The white-haired girl passed the gun into Yura's hand. He gripped the handle, his knuckles white. He raised it into the light of Sergei's window and squinted, gun glinting in the sun. His skin shone with sweat, his jacket damp. He aimed the gun at the window, hand shaking. He just needed to hold a gun like a normal person. Without fail, it again fell out of his hands onto the hardwood floor.
Yura inhaled.
"So you can't even hold a gun."
"I just-"
"I'm coming with you, then."
He sighed. "Fine."