"The fastest firing contraption we have in my world is a crossbow. Like a gun, but much slower."

"Some people still cling to the old weapons," Circe admits. "It just gets them deader."

"I'm sure my magic will be faster."

"We're probably going to want to test that at some point. Let's not rely on assumptions."

"You know what? Let's not." Anders grins.

"Wise man."

"Occasionally.'

"Well. You're not arguing for a foolhardy position. So. Points for that."

"Wherever I can get them."

"Oh. Good. No-one got shot."

"Not yet, anyway."

He offers a rueful smile to Mako.

"Brat," Circe says, although she sounds nothing so much as fond.

"The day is young."

"True. I could antagonise someone, yet."

"Please don't."

"I promise I won't shoot him unless he asks nicely."

“Oh, I’ll make sure to mind my manners, then.”

"You're being a bitch again," Mako says, sing-song.

“I believe that’s captain’s perogative.”

"Quite," Circe agrees. "Shall we leave you in peace?"

“I’m ready to get to work. Whatever you need.”

He feels like he’s made his decision. 

Circe gives him a nod. "We'll do some target practice next time we surface."

"Aye aye."

Circe and Mako leave.

Anders busies himself, organising the medbay to his liking.