What in the hell am I even doing?

[sneaky_ukrainian]

Weight is Good.

[He deftly tosses the .357 between his hands]

Is a sign of reliability. I always go for reliability.

Comments

[doctor_insano]

Reliability isn't always reliable!

[sneaky_ukrainian]

That does not make sense.

[doctor_insano]

It does if you're unreliable.

[sneaky_ukrainian]

Then is not fault of weapon being unreliable. It is because of whatever idiot is pulling trigger, da?

[doctor_insano]

True. I should invent an idiot proof weapon so that all that unreliability will be gone forever!

[sneaky_ukrainian]

If I have learned one thing it is that no weapon is idiot proof. Someone will always find a way to shoot themselves with it, guaranteed. But if by some chance you do find a way to make it, I would gladly sell.

[doctor_insano]

I can invent it! With SCIENCE!

[sneaky_ukrainian]

Whatever you say, goggle man.

[doctor_insano]

It shall be done! You'll see!

[He launches into maniacal laughter.]

Holy shit BORISSSSS.

[mr_professional]

The way I see it, that shit'll just slow you down, and it's a pain in the ass to haul around. Not to mention shoot; I mean, Christ, I don't need a gun tearing my arm off or busting an eardrum. I'm tryin' to do a job, not present some sorta stage spectacular.

You got anything more portable?

MR. PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINK

[sneaky_ukrainian]

If you run out of ammo, you can always hit him with it.

If you would prefer something more portable -- [He pulls out a small, snub-nosed pistol reminiscent of a Makarov] PSS. Small, quiet, but still plenty of stopping power.

FFFFFFFFFF

[mr_professional]

Yeah, and I can hit him with my hands. That ain't what a gun is for. [Not in his book, anyway. As well as he can, Pink prefers to keep a distance between himself and his adversaries; if there's got to be a problem, better to solve it through firepower than anything up close and personal.]

This, though... This I think I can get into. Mind if I give it a try? [He doesn't know how far to trust this odd-eyed son of a bitch--hearsay has been relatively positive, but there're some sketchy details--but he could use another gun, and this one's got a nice look to it.]

BEST CROSSOVER EVER

[sneaky_ukrainian]

[Boris pulls a magazine out from one of his coat pockets, and slides it in to the gun with a click before pulling back the slide. He flips the pistol around, holding it grip out to Mr. Pink.]

Of course. I have always thought it is better to know what you're buying.

I would watch the SHIT outta that.

[mr_professional]

[Um... Hey, okay, if this guy's up for letting him have a real test right here and now, why the hell not? First thing's first, though; he's got to make sure the piece checks out on the surface. Turning it over in his hands, Pink eyes the pistol from one angle after another, giving it a more thorough going-over than is entirely necessary. But hell, he wants to be sure. Fuck if he's about to let this guy screw him over.

The gun's small, but that's what he's looking for right now. Something to supplement the usual, a back-up option just in case. Even if it is just a little like the sort of gun some kinda pussy might carry--he assures himself that it's only a slight resemblence, and even that's an exaggeration and shut the fuck up, no one asked you--it'll do what he wants, and no one'll laugh once he starts shooting with it.

Speaking of which...] So, what, is there somewhere in particular you want me to give it a run, or should I just put a hole in your fucking floor?

MAKE IT HAPPEN TARANTINO/RITCHIE! Reservoir Dogs rob Tommy's slot machines.

[sneaky_ukrainian]

I have a small shooting range in the cellar. I would say outside, but well, England and it's pesky gun laws.

[He misses being able to walk around with his AK. He opens a door, and flicks a light switch as he descends the stairs. Downstairs is a plain, cinderblock cellar, plenty of crates on one side, and a bullet riddled target on the other.]

Fire Away.