"Well, I'm glad you're the one who caught me, then."

"Indeed." She'll firmly shut the door behind them as they leave. "What do you do to amuse yourself, other than snoop?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I'm rather boring when I'm not causing trouble.  Incidentally, where exactly are we?  Perhaps I'll go into town and snoop on civilians instead."

"North of the exclusion zone - we're in southeastern Pennsylvania. Nearest place that's more than a few buildings is Robeson Township. You want something with an actual population, you'll likely have to go all the way into Reading. We're doing our shopping somewhere else entirely - Tyrannissa's daemon's power is convenient like that - but I understand if you don't trust it yet."

He'd been wondering if they were going to keep him in the dark about their actual location for a time, as a deterrent against running away.  Thankfully, not.  "I trust it enough to ride it here, certainly.  And I wouldn't want to cause too much trouble in such a quiet place, and draw attention to our hideout.  What do you do for leisure?"

"I read, mostly, or train. I like keeping my physical skills sharp, and 'fancy knife throwing' is a fun party trick."

"That sounds prudent and entertaining.  Do we have any guns?"

"A collection, both that we brought with us and that we found here."

"Let's take a look, shall we?"

"That sounds quite likely to be entertaining."

The guns are in a converted garage - Decima comments they have more stashed wherever Tyrannissa puts assorted things, but those obviously aren't currently accessible. The previous owner seems to have been quite the collector - there's a variety of hunting guns (ranging from a low-caliber 'varmint' gun to a high-caliber 'the fuck are you planning to shoot with that' gun), several antique guns, some high-capacity semi-automatics, and a few handguns. 

"Do any of these antiques still work?  I suppose the accuracy will probably suffer even if they do..."

"I haven't thoroughly tested all of them, but they look in good condition overall. Finding ammunition, on the other hand, might be a bother."

"Point."  So he takes the shiniest handgun he can find instead, testing its weight in his hands.

It's a solid, reliable piece, as far as he can tell. The caliber's 10mm - good and affordable, intended for self-defense or medium (up to deer-sized) game. 

"One must look the part," he says as he puts on a holster.  "What's your poison?  Or do you prefer knives?"

"Quite. I'm a bit classically minded, really."

"I can respect that."

Outside, to practice?

Outside!

There's old, beaten up targets, and apparently someone decided the worst of the old furnishings and decorations make good targets, too, because there's a few bits of rooster paraphernalia off to the side, and signs of plenty having been broken.

He takes aim at a rooster.  Bang.

The rooster breaks, though some of it's still intact near the feet.

Decima starts idly practicing trick knife throws - she's good, but 'talented professional' good, not anything supernatural.

Slimebones will applaud lightly for particularly spectacular throws.

She bows with a fancy flourish, like a stage magician.

He doesn't do anything too spectacularly stupid with his handgun, but he's clearly enjoying himself.

Practicing is fun!

"We'll have to arrange an outing where we can use our skills properly," she says. "Perhaps a small target, enough for me to shut down any significant powers, and see who's the better marksman."

"Oh, that sounds like great fun.  Will we have to keep it secret from Maystadt?"