She takes it, of course. It was why she asked.

"Let's see... roughly speaking, it'd be oldest by the door, newest away from it, yes? With some variances for putting people next to each other."

She's already walking down the line with her candle. Not quickly, but - she suspects she's got it right.

"Yes, pretty much."

Yeah. She thought so.

Elaine walks to the very end of the memorial line. She doesn't rush it, just - looks at all of the names as she walks past. All of these people, she's never met, and never will. Her little candle is efficiently lit from one of the lit ones available (one Celeste Taylor), and then she quietly carries to place it at the very end of the line. Where the empty spaces wait for new monuments. There, it finds its home.

"May you find peace, in the eternal dark," she murmurs, making the half-moon sign of the goddess on her chest.

He doesn't know who she's honouring. Her parents, maybe, or her classmates, or just... everyone. It doesn't matter. He lit his candle from Celeste's, too, and he places it next to Elaine's.

The flickering of the flames in the low light makes their shadows dance eerily to unheard melodies against the wall, silent.

Very quietly, so quietly it's hard to even hear her, she whispers:

"I'm sorry."

Then she takes a deep, shuddering breath, and - very purposefully and tidily puts those feelings away.

"But I do want to make it home in time to surprise Melissa with dinner, so -" she attempts a smile. It doesn't quite fit. "Onwards?"

He shakes himself and nods. "Onwards." Next he's going to show her the armoury. It's one of his favourite places.

Okay?

She doesn't really see the appeal. Yep, these sure are implements used to kill people. Some of them swords, for some reason.

(She may or may not be vaguely hoping he might forget to give her a gun.)

"So, I heard you need a gun."

"Apparently. Even though I am not at all trained for its use."

"So you definitely will also need training." They are not so wealthy that they have a lot of guns but they have a small selection. He starts going through them, glancing at her—and specifically her hands—then back at the guns and humming thoughtfully. Eventually he decides on something small and unobtrusive.

He doesn't give it to her yet, though. "Rule number one of owning a gun is that you should not use the gun."

"Yes. And rule number two is probably to not point it at anything unless I specifically want it to die?"

Her hands are the slender and delicate hands of a scholar, is what they are. She looks the opposite of excited to receive a gun.

"Indeed." He looks over her dress, hums thoughtfully again, and goes for an ankle holster. "A back holster might also work but you have long hair and it's difficult to make as discreet," he explains. "So, when you say you're not trained at all, do you mean you can't reliably hit what you aim for, or that you don't know which end the bullet comes out of, what degree of ignorance am I working with, here?"

You are quite an unpleasant fellow sometimes, you know?

It's charming!

"I mean I have shot a gun exactly once, and missed despite the target being point blank," she says, absolutely deadpan. "I allegedly know which side the bullet comes out of, but can any of us be sure with that track record."

They cackle.

Be more discreet! Although, James is one to talk, as he's also laughing. "Understood. So I'm going to go through the very basics of gun safety here, and then I am going to arrange with the Captain to teach you how to use this gun. I think a couple of weeks of daily training should get you covered."

"Okay," she sighs, resigning herself to her fate. Of being paid three pounds a week to learn how to shoot a gun.

So: here is where the bullets go, here is how they go, here is the safety, here is how you hold a gun, here is how you do not put your finger in the trigger guard unless you actually mean to pull the trigger, here is how to holster and unholster the gun.

Questions?

Does she really have to? She did agree to not refuse assignments, and this is an assignment. And not even one she can hand off to her coworkers. Sigh.

No, no questions. Well, except: is she to practice reloading so she can do it in her sleep to start with? Or is there a firing range where they can in fact. Do the thing. Where she shoots a gun.

Oh there's absolutely a firing range but not down here, he'll show it to her later. He would rather she actually not try to use the gun at all unless she needs to to save her life, until they have had at least one lesson in the firing range.

She is a little bit cheered by not being required to use the gun at all! That is a problem for future her.

Indeed it is! Hooray!

She is leaving this room with the gun in the holster attached to her ankle, though. Better get used to walking with it in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion.