"Excellent, excellent. I just need you to verify that you have sufficient cashflow in your basic income account to be able to pay for a potential abuse fine. Just the basic income amount is enough, don't worry about it! Number two... I don't think I know what that refers to. But the most powerful shot that doesn't pierce walls, that's probably the most sensible option, yes. Do you have thoughts on materials and models? Do just want the lightest firearm that fits within your budget, or do you have a materials preference"

This is going well. She can handle this.

"I'd prefer reliability and straight-forward maintenance over everything else, and ease of loading after that. Pump-action over semi-automatic, likewise pump-action over break-action — if break-action is even still in use outside of reenactments. Weight is a tertiary concern after that."

"Well, I think that reliability won't narrow your options much! In terms of straight-forward maintenance, I think that they're not very different there, either. Ease of loading, however, that's really a subjective thing. I'm somewhat surprised at your preference for pump-action, although they are hugely satisfying. And break-action is really only used for sports shooters.

Now, thinking about those constraints... hmm. There's somewhere between 10 and 20 live firearm owners here. They help each other maintain their guns and stuff, but there is no gun store, only one offering training guns. You'd have to order the gun you want to use, and wait for it to arrive. Is that acceptable?"

She nods. "That makes sense, and that should be fine."

"Certainly! The verification is done by you sending us a tiny, randomly chosen amount of money, to prove you control the account. Then we check its current balance and how high its basic income amount is. Then we automatically send the money back." He fumbles around and finds a phone. "You need to type in the verification account number..." He lists up a series of numbers and letters. "And the random dust amount is..." He says another random number. "And then, you're off to find the shotgun you'll use to keep yourself and your loved ones safe!"

She taps the information into the banking app on her phone as he gives it to her, and sends the verification transfer. This is familiar, online businesses used similar methods on earth.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, miss! Now, go get a new shotgun that you can eventually end up knowing like the back of your hand!"

She smiles shyly. "Will do. Do you have a recommended seller or installer for the gun safe?"

"There's one guy that does both. I'll give you his number, tell him you want something for your shotgun and a pistol going forward. He's pretty quiet, really. But extremely reliable." He slowly says a phone number, with a few letters in it, for Sable. "He has a few different models, not a huge collection, but certainly something for your needs. We don't sell a lot of safes in general, here."

She nods and saves the number in her phone. "Thank you. I'll get in touch with him on my way out."

And then she heads back outside with Sydney. She can be done with talking to cops now, right?

Assuming there isn't anything else that she needs to handle inside the station, she heads out to the car and puts a hand on the door, leaning there with her head down for a moment and breathing heavily.

Fuck. She just did that. She talked to a cop and nothing went wrong. She hasn't talked to a cop since jail. Fuck. Fuck.

She just lets her breathing be a bit out of control for a moment, now that she's not in the station anymore.

Sydney looks at Sable with a mix of confusion and worry. "... you should try out some of the training guns on offer, get something that helps you feel safe. You don't have to worry about people hurting you anymore. Even before you're armed so you can protect yourself."

She pulls herself back together enough to talk. "Yeah, should at least try to borrow one and get some range time in today." Another heavy breath. "I can be functional in the station itself, especially since the cops back home weren't usually shitty to people visiting the lobby of the police station, but it's still nerve-wracking since the last time I interacted with cops wasn't nearly so pleasant."

She'll elaborate if asked, but... it's not a pleasant story.

"...Let's go, then. Practice shooting stuff a bit. Something to take your mind off stuff that's much worse." She prepares to drive off with Sable, reaching an indoor firing range just a few minutes later. There's a casually dressed man walking in, turning his head to look at the car with Sable in it. He's wearing a relatively short white skirt.

By the time they get to the range, Sable has bounced back and is rather excited. She smiles warmly at the man as she gets out.

She can see the entry room before the firing range, with various pistols and long guns (with very distinct and obvious red squares of plastic tied to the gun barrels) kept in neat closets, with ammo above and below it. There is a small fee for renting the firearms kept at hand, as well as ear protection. It seems like the fee is for renting both earplugs and earmuffs.