[OPEN] How much of it's genetics? How much of it is fate?

[chronomancer]

Characters: jade!Eridan & YOU! 
Setting: Workshop
Format: Starting with action, but I'll match you.
Summary: Eridan emerges from his self-imposed exile for a while to clean his rifles.
Warnings: Eridan's deadpan. Potential violence if he gets pissed; lots and lots of rifles. Gamzee. Gory, ironic death via Gamzee. Goddammit, Gamzee.

[He started off with one. And then he doomed himself a few times. And well. It wasn't like he could just let them go to waste, when they started piling up.

Laser rifles need a different type of maintenance than the usual kind, but it's still maintenance in the end.

So there's a sullen troll, half hidden behind a pile of guns, carefully cleaning one by one. It's a methodical and repetitive process, but it's not like Eridan seems to mind too terribly. He's just minding his business, but hey. Maybe if you ask very nicely, he'll give you one.

Maybe.]

Comments

[geometry]

[YES, ONE DAY. BUT NOT ONE DAY SOON.]

...I guess.

It's just like learning anything else...

[chronomancer]

Pretty much.

[He smiles.]

It's all in the technique. So it's all about practice and patience.

[geometry]

...Practice and patience. Right.

[And not accidentally shooting anyone's limb off. That's important.]

[chronomancer]

[It's okay, those grow back, around here. He'd know.]

Mhm. Anyway, after you're done cleaning them, all you have to do is put them back together.

[Like so.]

And that's it.

[geometry]

[That's it? Hmm. Okay.]

I... I can remember that.

Thanks.

[chronomancer]

Good.

[He offers half a smile.]

So why don't you practice a little and help me clean these? We can start with the actual shooting part once we're done.

[It's not that he wants Equius to do his work for him, though, considering he can clean at least three rifles in the time Equius manages one. It comes with having excellent muscle memory of this.]

[geometry]

Sure.

[And he shifts his position on the floor a little so that he has easier access to the huge pile of rifles. He'd really hate to, say, fall on this pile by accident or something. Or lie on it. Shitty rifles would be going off everywhere.]

[And then they cleaned riffles.]

[chronomancer]

[And then they cleaned rifles. And none of them went off and none of them died stupid, ironic deaths.

A while later.]

Well. There's that. You take these.

[Have to rifles thrust into your hands, Equius.]

And I'll go put these away. Why don't you meet me on the forest floor in about, oh say, half an hour?

[geometry]

[Whoa, okay, rifles. Equius tried not to scrabble around with them too much, fearing that he'd break them, and judging from the lack of uncomfortable noises coming from the guns he could only hope he succeeded.]

For... shooting practice, you mean?

[chronomancer]

Yep.

[Don't mind him, he's just gonna tie these up into a roll. A roll of guns. A deadly roll of guns. He's entirely too good at that, for the record.]

Go ahead, I'll meet you there, alright?

[geometry]

...Alright.

[Equius watches in mild amazement as Eridan just... rolls them up, and then decides that his pathetic amateur skills will no longer be of use here. So he gathers his long-discarded supplies again and leaves.]

[chronomancer]

[Once he's taken his roll of riles away - smaller than it originally was, thanks to Gamzee and the few he broke - Eridan makes his way to the forest floor, hands stuck inside the pockets of his jacket, ready to get some instruction done.]