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I need one of you who knows weaponry in this world universe

[That he can erase unwanted words - 'universe', however new to him, is more accurate - has not occurred to Roland. That he should try has, likewise, not occurred to him. Of course his message is still completely legible.]

I'll be able to pay with credit soon I can pay with services now

[It isn't that he doesn't know the magical power of a full stop at the end of a sentence. He is, after all, wearing the ear plugs which allow him to know this language as if he's been using it all his life. It's just that the types of messages, barring legal documents, that needed writing in his own dimension have led him to believe that punctuations are something which happen to other people.]

I need a tailor or seamstress to pretty up my damn uniform for me Payment same as above

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someone wasnt paying much attention while getting the rundown huh
they dont charge us for shit here just ask the techie locals and ye shall recieve
and there are these alien fashionistas whod be fuckin jazzed to take care of your uniform
the hard part will be stopping them from going overboard and tossing a few dozen possible new costume designs in your face

[Punctuation is for nerds.]

If I wanted to ask them I'd be asking Do you know anything helpful or did you only answer to go shaking my knee

well i assumed you were somehow too dumb to get the concept of just asking for help from the people that are literally there to help
rather than just refusing to do things the easy way for no reason
and what the fuck kind of phrase is shaking my knee

The kind that's not going to get either of us what we want any faster unless you're here for a grammar lesson Do you always get pulled off track so easily

yeah pretty much

Not so hard to figure out. Something have you confused?

The machines here can do things no one in my world has dreamed of for dozens of centuries If you'd like me at your back in battle with a machine I don't know anything about aye it wouldn't be hard at all

What are you used to?

Bullets arrows Anything designed to kill I've never seen a nonlethal weapon that was truly effective but this place must have some

Sure. Plenty of things that stun. People here who will help you modify what you've got, too.

[Roland would die before- well. He'd very probably kill before letting anyone modify his guns. Probably better not to advertise that.]

Stunning may have to do I'll look into it Do so few Legionnaires use weapons then

Some do. I've got a gun.

[Which they can pry out of his cold dead hands, thanks.]

How long does the stun last

[He wants to ask more but in writing, even more than in every other way of communicating, he is inclined to keep things brief.]

[Usually. What little curiosity he has is densely concentrated in just a few areas, though, and this happens to be one of them. After a moment, he gives into it.]

Like to see it used if you don't mind Need to see how the weapons of this Legion handle

I haven't let them touch it. It's from home.

[It's still lethal--he went through far too much to steal it, so he's not about to let anyone tamper with it. He just can't use it the way it's intended on missions. That, or aim for the kneecaps, he guesses.]

You're welcome to see it anyway.

Edited 2016-12-05 19:39 (UTC)

Kind of you If all our quarters are in the same place I ought to be able to find you There must be a shooting range nearby somewhere

There is. I'll meet you there.

Roland's spent most of his first day here in his Legionnaire quarters. He'd had to. Just before he'd come here, shortly before Roland had even heard the word Legionnaire, the man in black had shown Roland a vision of what he'd called the universe, shown him reality in all its size, in some of its complexity. Roland had withstood the knowledge then, but only just. He isn't convinced, still, that this place, this machine the size of an entire civilization, isn't a cruel extension of that same vision. Roland had known he was hiding from the reality of this place, spending the day in that room, but he'd known he'd needed to, too.

Except that, now that he's out, it takes an act of will to keep himself from wandering. But will Roland has and so he uses it, and he makes it to what's called the training gym and he stares. Then he sighs, looks annoyed, and sets out through it, looking for anyone likely.

If the other man finds him, it'll probably be by the swimming pool. There's an almost physical compulsion for Roland to stop and stare at it. If he's found there it might be because of the wooden grips sticking out of the holsters at his hips, the guns which look more old fashioned in this setting than Roland would quite believe. Or maybe what would really mark him out is the dumbfounded look on his face - it'd mark him out as one of the new crop of Legionnaires, anyway, and he's too overcome for a good minute or two to wipe it off.

But after that he'll move on, and maybe they'll find each other that way. Can't stay and stare forever, after all.

76 waits in the shooting range until it occurs to him that perhaps Roland doesn't know where it is. Perhaps he should have said something--but it's too late now, so he sets off to look, which turns out to be easier than it has any right to be. He comes across someone who's clearly new here gaping at the pool, and 76 gives him an obvious once-over before he speaks up.

"You look lost."

He's not sure if this is the guy, but the archaic weapons give him a hint. If he's incorrect, no skin off his back, but from the look on the man's face, 76 thinks he's found him.

Roland blinks and forces his gaze away from the pool to consider the question. He considers it a little more deeply than was maybe intended, then nods with a grunt.

"Guess I am."

Roland's gaze starts at the other man's boots and goes up, trying to assess both him and whatever equipment he's got on him in one look.

"But you don't. Know the way to the shooting range? I think I've kept someone waiting a little longer than I ought to."

Yep. Called it.

76 doesn't betray anything on his face, however--not that Roland can see it beyond the way his eyebrows creep up his forehead right at the top of his visor. He folds his arms, rocks back on his heels a little.

"I think it's me. You were asking about weapons?"

"Mhm." His gaze lingers on that mask and for a couple seconds he's curious - but only a couple. Roland wonders, and then dismisses it. What a man chooses to cover himself up with isn't the important thing just here and now.

"I've seen most every kind of weapon in my world- my universe, damn it." Roland huffs and gives his head a quick shake, as if he can shake the word into his head by will alone. The word and the whole concept that comes with it, universes and galaxies, even planets, his mind is still trying to reject it no matter how impatient he gets with the whole damn thing. Nevermind.

"Something new would be quite a thing to see. What do you carry?"

76 is content to get right down to business, waving Roland to follow him out of the pool area and towards the shooting range. He's left his gun there for now, finding it a bit unwieldy to cart around in situations like this.

"Heavy pulse rifle," he says, apparently oblivious to the fact that someone might not know what that is. 76 seems happy to elaborate, at least--talking about guns is easy. "Fully automatic. 25-round magazine."

"Magazine. That's where your bullets are stored? I've never heard that word before." Although that'll be obvious, Roland thinks, because the word hadn't quite come out from his mouth the way it had from the other man's: more like magda-seen.

He follows easily, paying equal attention to who he's following and what they're moving past. Not that he understands much of that latter, of course, but that'll come. May be just as well that some of his old friends never made it this far. There'd been one in particular who never had grasped the idea of watching quietly now in order to understand later.

Roland huffs to himself, pushing away the thought, and looks ahead again, frowning. Focus on who's here with him, what he's here for. He'd had a question, hadn't he. "What's automatic about it?"

"That's what I mean."

He's starting to realize that perhaps they're working with a different vocabulary--that's okay. A gun is still a gun, and he's pretty sure they'll reach common ground sooner or later.

The gun range isn't far, and 76 is quick to pick up his rifle once they arrive. It's large, clearly meant to be supported by someone with enough strength to withstand the kickback, even if it's been designed to minimize that. He hoists it, testing its weight before holding it out for Roland to get a look.

"Fires continuously as long as you're holding down the trigger. That's what it means."

Roland tilts his head to try and look it over from a few different angles, studying it. If he'd come in expecting to understand all this, all the strange words and mechanics of it, he'd be getting fairly frustrated about now. But weapons, at least, are one part of this whole place where that strangeness intrigues rather than overwhelms him. It's a relief, and that relief may not show as he looks the rifle over, but he does look more relaxed.

"The next time you take this apart and clean it, I'd be very interested to watch. Like to see what sort of mechanism makes that possible. Must go through a lot of bullets."

He does not, of course, even consider asking to take it apart himself. You don't, not with another man's weapon. Not one that's properly his anyway which, judging by the way he'd mentioned that rifle earlier, Roland assumes that it is.

Edited (wait sorry i assumed 76 actually let roland hold it but i don't think he did) 2016-12-12 14:58 (UTC)

76 is more interested in Roland's reaction to the gun than anything else, and he watches him intently through the visor, trying to gauge what he may or may not be familiar with based on the way he examines the rifle.

He's right in that 76 doesn't let him hold it, but he can touch if he likes, and after a moment he sets it on the ledge of the firing booth.

"Mind showing me what you've got?"

Almost every part of what he calls a rifle is foreign to Roland. The space where its hammer isn't, along with any objects or switches on the bottom or sides will get extra attention.

"Mhm," he says absently, still examining the rifle for a second before he pulls out one of his revolvers - and a more different animal from the complex, space age workings of 76's rifle would be hard to find. It's built simply, its parts and their functions visible at first glance, though it does have a few almost notable features; there's a metal plate fastened on the blue-gray steel of it, the handle is of very old, fine grained wood, and there's a small symbol etched near its muzzle. He'll open the chamber and show the ammo - or maybe just take one of the casings out from one of the gunbelts around his hips - if the conversation comes to that. For now its outside is enough.

"I've used little but these for - hm, a very long time. Always did favor something similar even while training, though. You? Use that most of the time?"

76 might use a futuristic two-handed experimental rifle, but he recognizes the guns that Roland produces. His eyebrows arch in interest, and he leans in to get a better look.

"Most of the time."

Roland might be astute enough to notice the sidearm strapped to his thigh, but 76 is content to keep the conversation trained on those revolvers.

"I know someone who uses a gun like that."

"Oh? In your-" Roland still isn't certain about the right terminology here - those he'd known who believed in traveling between into other places, into other levels of existence, spoke of it completely differently - and this frustrates him. He compromises. "-home? Or here? Must be rare in both, to be so notable. Most fight with something more like yours?"

"Both." Seeing that McCree is here, now.

"Kid's used a six-shooter for as long as I've known him. A little archaic," he says, to answer Roland's question about what people use on his version of earth. "But it gets the job done. I'll introduce you sometime."

You don't use a gun like that unless you're an excellent shot. He's pretty sure the two of them will get on.

"I'd like that," Roland says, holstering his gun. "Since you already know something like mine, how about yours? You called it a..."

He thinks back for the exact phrase. "A heavy pulse rifle. What kind of pulse were you meaning, precisely?"

76 nods to indicate that's correct, moving back over to his gun to pop out the magazine. The ammo canister is just a small rectangular object, and he'll hand it to Roland for examination.

"Type of munitions. Might be easier for me to just show you."

He looks the magazine over. Not much to see, of course, without opening it up, but he studies the size of it, the heft, and keeps both measurements in mind as he holds the little box back out and steps back, giving the man and the rifle space to work.

"We need to do anything special to set the targets up?"

76 takes the ammo canister, snapping it back into place and sliding the reload mechanism shut, hefting the gun a little as he makes his way to the controls for the firing range. He shakes his head in response to the question, bringing up a simple configuration, lines of targets on the far end of the shooting range.

"That's about it."

With that taken care of, he's quick to raise the rifle, leveling it at the first target. All he has to do is squeeze the trigger, and a spray of electric-blue pulse fire rips from the muzzle of the gun and tears through the target at the other end of the range.

Are you from another time, too?

[Kubo recognizes that haphazard sort of written phrasing, which looks a bit like his when he first arrived. He's learning a little more about how his written messages should look, mostly by reminding himself that everything Dave types is atypical.]

I'm from a long time before this sort of technology. My name is Kubo. I'm a storyteller.

Lots of people will be willing to help you here. It took me a while to get used to not having to pay for things at the start too.

Edited 2016-12-04 10:11 (UTC)

The techies and fashionistas [Not that he knows what those words mean, not properly, but the writer of the irritating red text used them, and a man must emulate before he can adapt.]

wouldn't charge for Legion work that I understand Does no one charge for anything else I was told I'd get a salary surely that's useful for something

[Kubo's not really sure what they mean either, and he's also probably not the right person to give an answer to that question, but he's gonna try!]

I think they give you less salary when you eat or get things here.

Acknowledged Thank you for the information

You're welcome.

My mother is new here too, so if you'd ever like to be shown around, I'm already giving tours of this place. I perform a story every day the cafeteria, so I'm easy to find.

You called yourself a storyteller It's been a long time since I met one of those When can I find you there

I made our living as a storyteller back home. I tell one every day when the midday meal is being served. I'll look for you after today's story.

I can't actually make it for you, but I can design your uniform, if you want. I design my own all the time.

[Maybe it wasn't everything that the guy was looking for, but hey, it was a start, right?]

I understand payment isn't regular but you're doing me a service I'll find a way to pay if you want it

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I'm assuming them being in-person means we're using prose, let me know if you'd rather use brackets

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