Owner	Pose
Michael Erickson	The practice booths of the Triskelion's range are hosts to all sorts of weaponry -- handguns, submachine guns with nonlethan ICER rounds, and more. Down at one end of the range, however, the more advanced locations allow for the use of more powerful, exotic arms, and it is there that Michael Erickson (for that is the name he uses on this world) wields a more powerful set of arms.     Dressed simply in jeans and jacket, ear protection firmly on, the tall, grim man stands at the booth along his row, which is lined with panels of material meant to absorb excesses of energy. A number of strange, bulky arms are laid on the counter, insectile and blackchromed for the most part; in his hand, however, he holds a sleek, tapered weapon that looks for all the world like something that one might have found attached to a games console in the 1980s. He holds this out before him, and squeezing the trigger releases pencil-thin beams of bright, white-blue light that snap down the aisle to strike targets. Where they hit, a bright flaring of heat follows, the hissing of vaporized material and the sharp popping of displaced gas. Audible from outside, perhaps. Or perhaps the flash is visible through the window set in the booth's door.
Hellboy	The seven foot demon has been a more regular visitor to the firing range than usual, lately. He doesn't wear eye or ear protection, despite regulations. He is irresponsible and a bit foolhearty sometimes, but the main thing is that it looks dorky...probably. He carries a gun case with him that not only identifies him by name, but also the weapon in question. Hellboy. Samaritan. The handgun is on the heavier end of things, which puts him just a few spots over from Michael. Drawing out the pistol with his left hand, the demon gives pause when Michael's weapon discharges. Setting the pistol back in place, Hellboy picks up the case and moves to where the alien is practicing. He knocks with his Right Hand of Doom anywhere that might get the other agent's attention.
Michael Erickson	It shouldn't have as much destructive power that it does, slender weapon as it is - and yet it does, for each of those thin beams strikes with the power of a hammer. Once, twice, thrice again, and then Michael hears above the hissing din the sound of a fist clapping upon the frame of the door. He turns a bit, looking back over one shoulder, and sees the big, red fellow through the window on the other side. Reaches for the intercom switch up on the booth's frame.     << Come on in, >> he invites in a detached baritone voice. << I'm just finishing up. >>
Hellboy	Hellboy enters, closing the door behind him. "Hey," he says. "That the new standard issue sidearm?" He looks at the slender piece of advanced tech and seems to be considering a few things about it.
Michael Erickson	Michael blinks a tad as he finds the booth suddenly /much/ more crowded, big red muscular devil-man in it and all. "Ah, no," he says, looking between Hellboy and the weapons arrayed on the booth's shelf. "These are my own. Can I help you, Mister...?"
Hellboy	"Hellboy," Hellboy says. He furrows his heavy brow a bit. "That's quite a selection. I take it you're from out of town."
Michael Erickson	"Very far out of town," Michael replies, looking back to the array of weapons. "I take it you're at least out of the dimension, name like that."
Hellboy	"Name was given to me when I got here," Hellboy explains. "You don't like it, some call me Red." He sets down his case next to all the impressive weapons. "These do anything against vampires? Ghosts? Regenerating horrors from the depths of a witch's nightmares hell bent on destroying anything with a mortal soul?"
Michael Erickson	"Well what do /you/ like?" He turns back to the weapons entirely now, looking over each. "I suppose they might, depending - anything mortal, anyway. Vampires could be killed by most of these, although..." Michael pauses, then; he picks up the narrow pistol in his hand again, and his face is awash in a wave of grave consideration. "Hunt vampires, do you? I don't suppose you know of a cure for the condition that isn't terminal? At least the supernatural affliction. Vampirism isn't /always/ a curse in the galaxy. Just here."
Hellboy	"Not really my department," Hellboy says. "I'm more of a hammer than a scalpel." He opens the gun case, revealing the massive revolver therein. "Don't touch," he warns, probably a little more sharply than he needed to. He plucks the weapon out of its case and says, "This is what I've been carrying, but it's always been a little tempramental. What you get for carving up powerful, holy relics and assembling them into an artifact weapon."
Michael Erickson	"Well I don't know anything about artifacts," Michael replies, his brows arched. "I'm a hammer, same as you. Soldier, or was." The enormous firearm is eyed. "Oh. Well, I'm sure I could handle that. I can chuck a ton of weight on my own, nevermind the rest. But..." He starts pointing out the other weapons with the muzzle of the slender gun in his hand. "Electron pistol, neural destabilizer, concussion beam projector, and this..." He indicates the toylike weapon. "Plasma projector gun. Oddly enough it's the most flexible and advanced out of all of them."
Hellboy	Hellboy puts his revolver into the case. "Mine will punch a hole through a tank with the right munitions," he says. "Not really why I have it, though." He reaches into his nebulous coat and pulls out a round. It's about as massively oversized as the weapon itself. He holds it up for Michael's inspection. It is hollow and transparent, looking like an ampule filled with something transparent. "Holy Water. I've got rounds of silver, cold iron, and all kinds of specialty options can be used on all kinds of supernatural threats." He pockets the bullet again, losing it in the folds of his great covering. "Doesn't mean a damn thing if my gun jams on me in the middle of a fight. It tends to do that."
Michael Erickson	"Mechanical firearms will do that," Michael points out. "Honestly I'm surprised you're not just using a blade. Hand weapons are fine and all, but they're machines, and machines fail. A blade just breaks." He nods to the various collections of rounds going into Hellboy's pocket. "Do you deal with that a lot? The mystic and supernatural?"
Hellboy	"Usually," Hellboy says in reference to the last part. He holds up his right hand, a stony fist like a battering ram up to his elbow. "We bump the things that go bump in the night," he tries. That flows into a shrug. "Or something like that." He rests his heavy right hand on the gun case he brought with him. "So, how do vampires work off-world?"
Michael Erickson	The question makes him chuckle. "Well," he says, "I'll admit that the whole 'living dead' thing here is uncommon, but I don't know if that's the case for this galaxy. I'm from another one, you see - but /there/, I mean...we have magic and such." He goes to adjust his headphones, and reaches over to pick up another one to hand out to the big red fellow. "Most are biological, or extradimensional. Natural to their environment, if not, you know, everywhere else."
Hellboy	"How do you deal with them there? Holy water doesn't feel appropriate. I'm guessing crosses mean nothing to beings not connected with the people who crucified with them."
Michael Erickson	"You know, crosses don't necessarily have to do with religion." Michael chuckles as he raises the weapon and peers down the barrel. "Evolved predator species can sometimes get confused with geometric shapes suddenly thrust in front of them." A beat. "Ear protectors, please? I'd hate to get tossed for breaking the rules."
Hellboy	"Didn't bring any," Hellboy says. "If I get ringing in my ears, it'll go away in a few minutes." He looks at the gun case. "Not going to debate supernatural shit with you, though. Just wondering what the superstitions are elsewhere. What relics exist. And yes, religous significance makes a difference, depending on what you're facing." He says it like he's said it a hundred times before and is tired of the rigamarole.
Michael Erickson	Michael waves the ear protectors he's held out to Hellboy with a grunt. "No, man," he says, "Put /these/ on. Like I said, rules. And we're talking about MY galaxy, I thought?" He smirks at the other fellow. "Don't make it sound like that. I'm not gonna debate you on your turf, you know what you're doing. Did I not just say a lot of the vampires where I come from are biological?"
Hellboy	Hellboy takes the ear protectors from Michael, but doesn't put them on. "I'm not talking about just vampires. I'm trying to ask about relics and shit." He grumbles. "You know, the holy stuff that YOUR galaxy's things that go bump in the night fear."
Jessica Drew	Re-qualifications are looming on the horizon. And, after spending several days cooling off in containment cells along with other agents caught in a virus that swept through some of them, Agent Drew is ready to party. To each their own, gun range practice is fun for some people. She stops and looks into a special energy-absorbing chamber, unsurprised at seeing her asset, Michael Erickson working on his shooting. His companion is unexpected. Through the heavy glass, Jess is a slender black silhouette in standard-issue black tactical armor, her dark hair tucked up into a billed hat with the SHIELD logo. Without hesitation, she presses a button to announce herself over the intercom. "Got room for one more in there?"
Michael Erickson	"Thank you." As long as Hellboy's got the protectors in hand, Michael seems satisifed - any demerits or whatever won't be on his arse! "Well that's the thing," he says, turning back. "Our religion - well, the state religion of the Empire, and the religion of my people in specific as I'm from the dominant racial and political group - is all about sheer conquest anyway, so we try not to destroy so much as we do force compliance. I know, I know, but that's why I turned my back on them."     He turns the blaster over in his hands, and holds it out - about to fire - when Jessica chimes in. "Come on in!" he calls to her, then turns back away from the aisle once more. "Now normally the military leaves it to a special unit for those sorts of things, but I was in Intelligence so I have at least a /little/ bit of knowledge there. We have what was called an Extraordinary Threat Response Unit, sort of like a very militant version of W.A.N.D. like you have here. They utilized what we called 'Dimensional Torsion Guns' for such work." He pauses to grin. "We used to called them Spirit Twisters. Anyway. I expect they have something to do with planar shearing. They had mystics on hand too, but I unfortunately don't know anything about the magical arts. Anything that could be killed mortally, we would just move in the regular infantry with nuclear disintegrators and things like that. Break them down to their component atoms so no regeneration or resurrection was possible."
Hellboy	Hellboy lets out a, "Hmph." He considers for a moment before he finally says, "I guess you don't have what I'm looking for, then," he says. "Not really interested in trying to have the lab boys put together a holy water bullet that will fit in a nuclear disintigrator. I was just wanting to know if your people had any relics they're not using." He picks up the gun case that reads, "Hellboy. Samaritan," and pushes past the new arrival as she aims herself in. "Ma'am," he says with a polite nod as he passes her.
Michael Erickson	"Well, let me ask around." Michael chuckles, looking back down the aisle. "I might be able to figure something out or another. See you around, Agent." As Hellboy makes his way out, Jessica is greeted with a bit of a wave. "Nice to see you as always, Agent," he says to her. "Come out to see what nonsense I've brought with me today?"
Jessica Drew	Jess clamps on her ear protectors but not before hearing her asset telling Hellboy more about his gun than previous debriefings and interrogations ever winkled out of him. Note to self: get him on the range and let him rip. Lips pressed into a line, so she doesn't say something she'll regret, Jess takes her Smith & Wesson out of its case and unlocks a clip of .45 ACPs to lay on the table. "Hey, catch you later, Agent," she wishes the tall man as he leaves. One eyebrow in the air, "To be sure. I'm checking on you. What did you bring?" Checking on him being patently untrue, but she was cooped up for too many days to play fair. With her head down and her smile hidden, the agent loads her gun.
Michael Erickson	"Couple of things," he says, nodding at the array of alien weapons laid out on the counter before them. "The electron pistol, as per usual. Neural destabilizer. That one's a concussion beam projector." Michael lifts the sleek black pistol in his hand, indicating it. "Plasma projection gun. I was telling the big guy there, this is the most advanced of all of them. I use it as my primary sidearm."
Jessica Drew	With a clack, Jess pushes the clip into her gun, nodding. She scrutinizes Erickson's gun with a faint frown, "I'm trying to remember if I've seen you use that in the field if that is your principal weapon."
Michael Erickson	"You did," he says, chuckling. "You took off with my big old electron rifle when Black Cloak and his boys rolled up on the Xavier kids. I used it there." He gestures at its sleek lines, a bit like an old-fashioned show model. "It draws in hydrogen or other gases into its unit through hidden vents, you see," he explains, "Stores it in a bottle. Then uses a high-temperature electric element to turn the gas into plasma, and projects it down a magnetic tunnel in a beam. You can use it as a weapon, but you can also use it as a tool, which is very useful. I helped the Vision seal the Lincoln Tunnel breach with this."     He puts the pistol on the counter next to the others, and steps back to gesture down the aisle. "Want to pop off some rounds? I don't want to hog it."
Jessica Drew	"Clever that it has an unlimited supply of fuel," she replies, pulling out the clip in her gun for safety and leaving it on the table. "I'd love to. Do you ever have to replace the electrical element? It would be cool if you only had to do that every few years." She reaches for the gun he proposed that she use, pleasant anticipation smoothing any hint of a frown from her face.
Michael Erickson	"Well, not unlimited." He chuckles, nodding at the weapon. "It needs charging from time to time, but that's simply enough done. Here." He picks it up, putting it in her hand if she allows - it's surprisingly light for all its elegance and complexity, scarcely heavier than her Smith and Wesson. "There's no recoil," he advises, gesturing to the targets down the way. "Press that stud on the side with your thumb once you grip the weapon, that activates the weapon mode. It'll throw a beam, so it's roughly got the same lifetime as a three-shot burst." A beat. "Oh, and keep the trigger squeezed the whole time."
Jessica Drew	Jess hefts the gun for weight, lifting it and lowering it several times to accustom herself to its feel. She turns it sideways to look at the stud he told her to press and then brings it up once more to look through the sight, her weight evenly distributed, shoulders perpendicular to the target. "Alright. No, auto-targeting function on it or is it all manual? I prefer manual. I feel like I'm in control." Carefully depressing the trigger, she activates the stud, releasing a thin stream of burning light at the bullseye. It's nearly a perfect hit except for the slight dip at the end where she had tried to compensate for the kick upward a normal weapon would give. "Oh, ho. Nice."
Michael Erickson	"The weapon is sentient," he explains with a chuckle. "So as it learns you, it will work to support you. Accuracy will be even better with time." He gestures to it, smiling softly. "A gift from my parents when I left for the cadres in my youth. It was old /then/. A relic of the Ilandar Campaigns, which my mother's father participated in." He grins, now. "Not bad at all, Agent. Have you had training in directed energy weapons before?"
Jessica Drew	"No," she shakes her head modestly. "My DNA gives me particular control with knives, the usual weapons of mayhem, rifles, guns, etc." In a near whisper, she adds, "They wanted a living weapon in their line of spider soldiers." She lowers the weapon and shrugs,"And got me." She reexamines the gun, "How does it adjust to every user? Does it remember you through your DNA or what?"
Michael Erickson	"Sounds like they got their money's worth," he says just as quietly. "But. I'm sorry it happened the way that it did." Then to change the subject, he nods, tracing the pistol's spine with a fingertip. "I don't know the science behind it. The weapon is imbued with a limited sentience due to its makeup - probably a thinking-crystal, it's more than high enough quality to have one. A lot of our technology is built on a crystalline basis. The weapon learns you, remembers. Officers of the Ilandar Campaigns often used these, but they've long fallen out of fashion now. Likely the expense."
Jessica Drew	"I'm surprised it accepts my hands on it since I likely was not part of the client profile of the Shi'ar Empire," she comments, anticipating an interesting response. She starts to lift the weapon and pauses. "No need to be sorry." Jess frowns frankly now. "Damned if I want to sound like poor me. I'm fucking glad they didn't manage to produce any more like me though there are others in the Spider Clan, so to speak. Just not produced by the people who brought me into existence." With a quick movement, she sights the target and fires.
Michael Erickson	The thin white beam, searing bright, strikes the target center mass. A lethal hit on a human target if ever there was one, even at this lowered power. "I need to find a new nonlethal firearm," he says, "I suppose. One that isn't an ICER. My current one's a bit too, uh, severe for SHIELD I think." Yes. Change subject. Change subject, eject, eject!
Jessica Drew	The change of subject is noted. Jess shoots him a glance, gun lowered to point at the ground, "Do you have a weapon that is non-lethal albeit severe? You didn't answer my question about DNA recognition. Humans, I assume, are not a client race are they? I would set these things to only recognize friends which I don't believe we consider most Shi'ar to be."
Michael Erickson	"I told it to accept you." He chuckles faintly. "Well, no. I didn't. But if it had ears to hear me, I would - it just senses a new user. It's not specific to genetic encoding, though I probably should have that feature added should I ever return to the Empire." There's a pause. "Not that I'm aware of, but there /are/ the occasional strains of abductions by species since conquered. I met with a Star Sapphire who was human, once, but grew up in the Empire -- do you know the Star Sapphires, Jessica?"
Jessica Drew	Jess wants to exaggerate and say, 'The Star who?' Gun still pointed to the ground she shakes her head no. "Sapphires. How poetic? No, I don't. But you do?"
Michael Erickson	"Mmm." He smiles, looking back down the aisle at the distant targets still wisping smoke where Jessica shot them. "They're akin to the Lanterns. The Green Lanterns serve as police, of sorts. Defenders of spatial sectors. Their color is green, hence the name. The Sapphires are violet - I don't know why the color is significant - but they are harbingers of compassion, of love. Champions of its defense." Michael takes a deep breath. "I wish we had one here. This world needs more love."
Jessica Drew	"Everyone should carry a sapphire in their pocket from birth if the gem had that affect on people," she says with a wry snort. "Are we particularly lacking in compassion?" Turning away from the target to look fully at him, "I thought the whole ethos for your people was to conquer. Where is the compassion in that? As for us, a lot of people function from the point of view of scarcity even when they are rich which definitely makes for a lack of compassion, in my opinion."
Michael Erickson	"We didn't conquer a whole galaxy just to be assholes to those who marched under the banner." He shakes his head, glancing between Jessica and the target dummies. "And that doesn't mean that we are strangers to compassion, either. Or love. Our very religion is founded on the concept of love under duress, especially. Two parts coming together, especially under the worst of circumstances, to unite finer than ever before."
Jessica Drew	"Conquering armies and compassion seem to be polar opposites to me. There seems to be a dichotomy of thought there or overweening certainty in your ability to enlighten the Galaxy and bring it a superior civilization. All the while by being compassionate to your subjects?" Jessica's mouth is flat in condemnation. After taking a deep breath, "I don't know anything about your religion. Would you give me its broad outlines?"
Michael Erickson	"Look, I didn't say it was /right/." He holds up his hands, conciliatory. "I said it was how it /was/. But...look." Michael takes a deep breath. "The way it goes is, when the universe was created, it was done by the primordial gods, Sharra and K'ythri. Now the two of them were enemies, and warred against one another since the beginning of time - but, eventually, they were forced to marry, and did so most unwillingly." He makes a faint face, but it clears. "...but, they decided to make the best of a bad situation - and, in time, came to love each other far more fiercely than ever they hated one another, and their love gave birth to many races, the Shi'ar above all."
Jessica Drew	"Most creation myths set the people it is about in the center of things and better than others. Most. Surprisingly the people native to North America consider themselves to be equals or even apprentices to the animals but not their superiors. They lost the battle to the Europeans wielding their Bibles and their myths about having God on their superior side and all of creation being subservient to them. So. How did your god overcome their differences?" Jessica has an absolute itch urging her to add, counseling to her her last question, but controls herself with a short exasperated sigh.
Michael Erickson	"Who's to say? I'm not religious." He gives her a smile of altogether threadbare humor. "But that's how we handle things in the Empire. Ever expanding, the Empire 'marries' other peoples, and in the union they usually find themselves to be much better off than they were on their own. Usually." Michael shrugs. "I think it's crap, personally, now. I absolutely believe that two people can hate each other untl they love each other, sure - love and hate are two sides of the same coin - but I absolutely don't think this whole 'fuck them till they love you' thing the Empire does is right. Which is why we're standing here talking."
Jessica Drew	"Fuck them till they are subjugated," she laughs humorlessly. "Superior technology does not make for happiness or a good moral compass. That is an old, old song that we have been singing on Earth since two hunter bands crossed each other and wanted to hunt the same animals. Well. Even though we lack compassion, something made you decide to not 'fuck us' till we loved you." A deep frown puts a vee between her eyebrows. She picks up the weapon and puts it to her shoulder, but pauses again. "What made you decide there was another way?"
Michael Erickson	"You really are preaching to the choir," he says with a grunt -- but then he shrugs himself out of whatever grump is upon him. "We're a predator species - descended from hunting birds, remember? At one point we were basically eagles, and though we've evolved we don't see things the same thing as humans do. Not really. But...forty years on this rock, I just...look around. And see things differently." Michael runs a broad hand through his hair for the millionth time that day. "I just...had time away from the Empire. From what I'd been taught. What I'd /done/, in the service of the Empire. And then, one day, I just woke up...and realized that it wasn't enough. It wasn't right. And that was it."
Jessica Drew	"I hope, I'm not preaching. That puts me right back on top of the superior soapbox, erm, behind the superior podium or what have you. I'm sure you understood, you have pretty perfect command of English idioms. Awakenings can be uncomfortable things, as you have no doubt found out." Settling into a shooting posture she adds another dark mark to the target then nods at him, "Thank you for taking up our cause." An equivocal statement if there ever was one. Still, she adds, "I think we'll need all the help we can get."
Michael Erickson	"I just don't want you think that I'm...still the same." He frowns faintly at the distant targets, now. "As I was. That's all."     There's a pause. Then, carefully, he asks: "Ever been off world?"
Jessica Drew	"I didn't know how you were before. How would I know?" The question has a tinge of grumpiness to it, a mark of how unsettling she found the rest of the conversation. "But I would rather have an eagle on my side than not." As she returns the Shi'ar weapon to the table, she shakes her head, "No, not that I wouldn't mind. Traveling in space is a bit of a dream for me though I know it can be frightfully boring. It's the view, the distance, seeing the stars without atmosphere." She gets enthusiastic, now, "Walking on another planet!"
Michael Erickson	"I was a lot more...like the Empire." He chuckles softly. "I started training in the cadres when I was fifteen, you know. I was just...what's the term they use in the United States? I was..." His face sparks with memory. "I was 'gung ho'. And I haven't been that way for a long time, now."     He looks at her for a long moment then. "Got a space suit? I'll take you to the moon."
Jessica Drew	"The follies of youth. I thought HYDRA was right. Or tried to believe they were. You grew out of it and so did I though I nearly didn't. So we can think ourselves lucky." Shaking her head in utter disbelief, she says sarcastically, "Of course, I have a space suit. No. I don't. They are considered rather expensive and superfluous for anyone who is not an astronaut. Are you planning to go to the moon sometime soon?"
Michael Erickson	"I've already been." He clears his throat softly. "One of the things I've been up to lately. Going up in orbit, cutting up broken satellites, stuff like that. Been all the way out to Saturn, actually."
Jessica Drew	"I imagine you have been to a lot of distant planets," she comments whimsically. Then more seriously, "Cutting up satellites on the Moon? The Asgardians, isn't it? They have a base on the Moon. But, why Saturn?"
Michael Erickson	"Because it's there." He flickers a smile, now. Warm, if faint. "I'm a very curious man. And yes, I /have/ been to a lot of planets. I'd be happy to tell you about them sometime, if you like." He considers. "You know I haven't been to La Grenouille for a while. Think you'd like to join me soon?"
Jessica Drew	"Because it's there," she echos with a short laugh. "Well, of course. Whose space craft did you use? That is a very long trip for our present technology, as far as I know. And, you are undoubtedly a curious man," she agrees, flipping the meaning of the word curious on its head. "First, the moon and then La Grenouille, is it? Do you like French food then? I love food that is well prepared. French, both haute cuisine and country cooking. Chinese. Japanese, especially sushi but kaiseki diori, too. Indian food from the South. Oh, my. Don't get me started. Thai." She laughs, embarrassed at her own enthusiasm.
Michael Erickson	</ But of course I do, /> he says in accented but otherwise excellent French - the accenting is very strange, almost trilling. </ It has only been a time since I was able to share a meal with someone. Especially over a topic in which we have such mutual interest. /> He grins faintly. "And I did not use a ship. The armor, it allows for interplanetary, even interstellar travel. In future I intend to do a good bit of exploring, to be certain."
Jessica Drew	Answering in French, </Well, of course, you speak French. It was part of my training, that and several other languages. But, I also like the way it sounds. I'm told I sound Parisian. Food is a mutual interest./> Dropping back into English, "Did I mention Korean, Italian, Lebanese and Moroccan, yet? I don't speak Korean or Lebanese, sadly." Taking up her Smith & Wesson M&P, she reinserts the ammo. "I need to clock time on it for re-qualification." She takes up her pistol with her index finger pointing forward above the trigger, her left hand supporting the gun and squeezes off a few shots, timed with her breathing. Gun still aimed, she says jokingly with her eyes on the target, "Get me a suit and I'll fly around with you."
Michael Erickson	"Only French and Spanish for me, I'm afraid," he says with a chuckle. "Well. And the languages of my people. High Shi'ar, Shi'ar Glorkon - that's the common tongue - and some other things. But mostly just those four." He quirks a smile. "I'll see if I can't requisition something from SWORD, shall I?"     He adds, somewhat cheekily, "And oui, Parisienne you most certainly sound. I'm told I just sound strange."
Jessica Drew	"Your R's but that undoubtedly must come from Shi'ar. Not that I'm familiar with it. Just a guess." Several shots punctuate the silence until she turns to him with a skeptical smile, "Oh, just going to req something from SWORD, are you? Be my guest. I'll be interested in seeing how far you get with that. And did I say yes to La Grenouille?"
Michael Erickson	"You did not," he replies, chuckling. "But if you want me to get a table for us anytime this month, you might want to make the decision before you're done shooting."
Jessica Drew	Jessica lowers the gun, still holding it with both hands and turns her head to look at him with an inquiring look. "What? Well, okay. I'd love to go to the Grenouille with you. I left my phone at the check in desk. I don't like calls when I'm on the range. Can you do it?"
Michael Erickson	"I'll take care of it," he says, nodding once. "I'll tell you what. I'll leave you to it, and I'll step outside. What's good for you? Next week? Say...eight o'clock?"
Jessica Drew	"That works for me. I think. You know how it is. You never know what is going to come barreling in." Gun carefully lowered. "Thank you for that."
Michael Erickson	"Yes, matron." Odd turn of phrase, but he says it with a boyish grin - and steps outside into the hall to do the deed. After a few minutes he returns, looking a bit surprised. "Got it," he said. "Last minute cancellation. Amazing, that."
Jessica Drew	Matron gets a lop-sided frown from her which brightens when she says, "I guess we are lucky. Oh, they have a wine cellar to die for there. It's been too long since I had wine of that caliber." Shots ring out as she finishes the clip, she fishes the next clip out of her belt and trades it for the used one. "One down. One to go. You've been spending more time here recently. What's changed your mind?"
Michael Erickson	"A healthy distance from your scientists." He shrugs. "Agent Lewis isn't chasing after me looking for live examples, and I've been coming here to shoot where the sensors are, so...I assume that they're getting what they need in terms of readings. I'm certainly not going to hand over live examples."
Jessica Drew	The shooting resumes which stops conversation for a moment. "I didn't mean the range, but okay. I meant the Trisk." Arms down, she twists to look at him, "What it it with Agent Lewis? I want to go and lean on her for traumatizing you like that. Bloody hell." She rolls her eyes at him. "You won't say but will show? Honestly."
Michael Erickson	"It's fine." He snorts softly. "She'd do well in the Imperial science cadres, that's for certain. She's just used to getting her way - and honestly, it's better I avoid her than stand up to her. I don't...I don't do well. Being pushed around." He frowns at that, taking a deep breath. "Don't want to cause an incident. And I suppose I need to show up here more often than not, don't I? Don't want anyone to think I'm up to no good."
Jessica Drew	"Whatever," she breathes, co-opting an American Valley Girl accent. "We know you're up to no good. So there." Jess is silent as she finishes the clip. Going to the computer set into the wall she records her range time and the target then removes the spent clip and adds the one in her belt to it to return to the Range office. "There. I like shooting for its own sake but have never been one to like doing qualifications. My rebellious side coming out. So, you've been to the Moon and Saturn. What other bad things have you been up to?"
Michael Erickson	"...honestly?" He frowns a tad. Looks at her, gauging. Conflict, just a moment, sparks in his eyes. "Can I talk to you about this? And it just be the two of us? Or do I have to go out of the building first for all the listening devices inside."
Jessica Drew	"Yes?" Jessica makes a subtle circling gesture to the walls. Everything is recorded in the Trisk. "We can get pizza in the City or something, if you like. I've been released. I've been here for a few weeks and I need to get home to throw out the plants that have probably died. I didn't make arrangements to have them taken care of."
Michael Erickson	"...you know, we'll talk about it later." He flashes a smile, then, and lays a hand lightly - and very briefly - on her shoulder before going to collect the weapons on the counter. "Sorry." There's...certainly something troubling him. "That was too familiar of me. I'll...just give me a call, huh?" He heads out, then, ducking out with a nod. "G'night, Agent. Talk to you soon."