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“You can’t have a free toy on ya’ like that and not use it!”
He internally reminded himself why he didn’t drink with Scythe, seeing how she’d taken it upon herself to mess around with his gun.
“Mainly because it’s not a toy,” Medkit reached back over, giving a frown at how the toying continued before reluctantly accepting it.
“It’s a lethal weapon used for serious activities.”
“Lethal, my butt. That’s what I’ll tell you.”
She leaned back in the booth’s chair, ignoring the odd looks from strangers surrounding the two of them.
Nobody would confront two cultists in public, would they?
“I bet you I could shoot myself with this thing and it’d do nothing.”
“I can’t recommend trying that.”
“You can’t recommend a whole lotta stuff, can’t ya’? C’mon, just one little silly game between the two of us!” The smile Scythe gave him was all teeth, but knowing her— there wasn’t malicious intent behind that.
He gave a small sigh, watching how she handed the gun back to him.
“Now see, when I use my rifle, that’d be a different thing. But you can control your gun, right?”
“Mhm.”
“So it ain’t all bad.”
“There’s a principle behind—”
Bang!
Well.
Principles were thrown out the window, with all chances of the two looking normal leaving as well.
The bartender was glaring at them.
“If you want to test out your little theory, can you have some public decency and test it outside?”
Her eye lit up looking at him, throwing down some money on the booth before shooting him a grin.
“Absolutely! C’mon then.” Medkit wasn’t too fond of the dragging this situation entailed, but arguing with his boss over one theory test wasn’t worth it.
The area they were in was the outskirts of the Crossroads, per his request. Nobody in the inner city needed to discover he’d been running around with Scythe, and Shotgun would hate to catch wind of him doing this.
He was being pulled into a small alley, watching a grown woman twirl around with his gun as if her own weapon weren’t attached to her hip.
“Ya’ know, doc— when I shot the first time, it didn’t go through any flesh or anything like that.”
“And?”
“It still made a hole in my clothes!”
There it was, an annoying tear near the woman’s coat. Trying to shoot herself directly in the chest, knowing a doctor was nearby.
That made him groan.
“You’d think, owning a gun deadlier and bigger than mine, that you’d have any idea of how gun safety works.”
“I’m plenty educated.”
Scythe laughed at his disappointment as he mumbled, “Not educated enough to not fire a gun at yourself, apparently."
Medkit stood and watched as she leaned against the wall, unloading the bullets straight into her hands until one was left.
She was way too drunk to treat any bit of this situation rationally, wasn’t she?
“Do y’know how to play Russian Roulette?”
“In public?”
“Yup!”
“Oh, absolutely not.”
He watched her fire his gun at him, laughing harder at the blank and handing it back. As much as she’d test his patience, Scythe seemed intent on not genuinely hurting his feelings too badly.
“Well, in ‘yer case, it doesn’t have the same thrill.”
The same thrill from risking being shot in the head? Really?
“I wish it did.”
Passive suicidal comments didn’t work on a drunk Southern criminal who looked intent on opening him up. Handling his liquor well didn’t help at all with her, did it?
“If I get ya’ back to camp on time, we should do a lil game of it.”
“Again, absolutely not.”
“Even if I throw in betting money?”
Medkit didn’t lack bux; no, the Broker would never allow one of their dearest members to live in poverty. But throwing in money to bet would make anyone give it a second thought.
“Maybe.”
That was taken as a ‘of course, Scythe!’ based on the way she looked at him afterwards.
“I think the hotel room won’t bother me too hard for some sudden noise.”
Typically, Medkit would hold no feelings about this sort of moving— Scythe would bring him back for personal business conversations in whatever hotel she had all the time; his problem was with the game that’d occur inside of it.
He hadn’t even addressed the elephant in the room when the two of them were walking. That elephant, being how hesitant he looked to follow her down the streets, received more odd looks.
Someone even tilted their head at him before raising their fist, some crappy attempt at asking whether or not he needed help.
Shaking his head worked, but the implication stuck.
Did he look scared?
The concern stopped by the time they hit the hotel. In fact, the Inphernal checking of the two of them looked more scared than worried. Medkit knew he didn’t look too threatening with a straight face; the two of them combined must’ve looked horrifying.
“Ya’ remember which room I am, right?” Scythe laughed at the receptionist, attempting to make some friendly sort of joke before giving up.
She’d been checked in for two nights. Of course, that joke would be awkward.
He saw her slide them extra money when she let go of his sleeve.
The sound of crappy lights buzzed in his ears, only being interrupted by the sound of Scythe’s keycard clicking when they reached her hotel room’s door.
“You ought to lighten up, Doc; it's unprofessional to say I know– but this really ain’t a good look.”
A drunk Inphernal stumbling around with a gun with a reluctant-looking victim.
“That just hit you?”
“You walked around looking like I held ya’ hostage!”
“You did.”
“Not the point.” She got her jacket off before motioning towards him, giving a judgmental look at his head shake. “You can play casually with me if we play at all. I’on bite.”
“Part of me questions that.”
“Doc! C’mon.”
Scythe patted a spot next to her on the bed, sitting next to the gun and looking directly up at his horns before getting properly situated.
“Now my question is-” she looked like she planned on watching a television show instead of playing a potentially deadly game, “Ya’ wanna play professionally, or just let me do it the way I like to back home?”
“I assume ‘back home’ has riskier implications.”
“Naw, naw, none of that. Jus’ more fair than how you city folk play.”
“How so?”
“Whoever spins shoots first, but we don’t keep doing all that spinning. Takes too much time and ‘s quite unfair if ya’ ask me.”
Scythe spun around the revolver after saying that, smiling at how it faced her while talking to him:
“We just go back and forth and wait 'til it fires.”
“I’m inclined not to believe you played Russian Roulette enough to have pre-established alternate rules.”
“What can I say? I’m too lucky.”
Spinning it would take more time than he’d like, and coming back to his apartment too late at night would worry Shotgun. Coming back in the morning was a whole different issue; he didn’t want to risk worrying Sword.
“Your way, then.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Scythe didn’t even bother asking more, putting it directly under her chin and firing. The click still gave him some internal sense of relief, as much as he knew it wouldn’t fire.
Then she blatantly aimed it at his head and took his shot for him, laughing at his instinctive flinch backwards from the gun.
“Unfair, you said?”
“Jus’ teasing.” She dragged the word before handing the revolver to him: “Hit me right here.”
Between the ‘eyes.’
He didn’t mind her laughter at the click, only giving a small sigh and firing a shot at himself afterwards.
Four out of six, and the bullet still hadn’t left the chamber.
“Fifty-fifty, jus’ how I like—” The gun fired when Scythe shot it, and he could see all the adrenaline hit her with one shot. As much as the bullet didn’t hurt, the sound of a gun firing was still enough to put him on edge.
“I win.”
There was a smaller mark on her neck, only a tiny indent from the pressure of the bullet against her skin. It really had done no harm.
“‘Yer only doing one round with me? Seriously?”
“My gun, my rules.” Medkit paused, blinking at her pout before adding, “You can go play around with your rifle and visit me afterwards.”
“Might as well.”
Sarcasm, Scythe! He would’ve said that; she was strictly finding amusement in how he’d deadpan at her face.
“Aha. Now, if that was all,” he dusted himself off and began to get up, “I assume next time I see you, you’ll have one good eye.”
“No promises.”
She gave in to how he lifted her chin, medical instincts taking over and checking to see if the gun had done any real damage to her neck.
“Ya’ worried about me?”
“I should make you pay up more for even asking that.”
“Well, jeez!”
Teal eyes were on him before Scythe added, “Y’can take all the money left in my wallet. Shouldn’t have much in that one.”
“‘Kay then.”
“Can I get a sweet goodbye, at least?”
“You can get a good night.”
“Well, ain’t that generous?” Medkit already regretted saying that, groaning at that sentence while digging in her jacket’s pocket. Enough to buy Sword some good food from that café he’d been visiting lately.
He gave a small grumble of “Thank you,” walking out the door afterwards.