"Will do. Thanks for all the help, Sydney. You're great. See you back at the apartments, yeah?"

"Yep, you have a wonderful day here!"

"You too!"

And then after Sydney leaves, Sable gets back to the guns.

She cleans them meticulously, memorizing the mechanisms, carefully burning every piece of machined metal into her mind. The best way to make sure every round she tries to fire hits her target, and to make sure the gun does nothing else, is to know it inside and out.

When they're reassembled, she brings them to a shooting lane, sends a target down the lane, carefully loads the shotgun, and pumps it to chamber a round.

She aims carefully ahead down the iron sights — no reason to hip-fire just yet, even if this is a shotgun — and fires.

Bang.

There's something viscerally settling about the recoil. She hasn't felt something like this since she was at summer camp, well over a decade ago.

She pumps the shotgun again, sights, and fires, gradually adjusting her posture and how she braces against the stock with each shot. She's carefully to only ever point it downrange or at the ground, never anywhere else.

When she she finishes working through the rounds she'd loaded, she carefully checks the chamber, puts the shotgun down, and collects the spent brass. Then she spends a moment just breathing heavily and smiling giddily.

The others at the range are similarly meticulous about gun safety, occasionally glancing at Sable's shooting and giving her a thumbs up once in a while.

She grins back whenever she gets a smile or a thumbs-up, and occasionally gives a thumbs-up or a quiet "nice!" to others, especially when she sees someone nail a particularly tight grouping or good shot.

She'll put another three magazines' worth through the shotgun, smooth and steady, her consistency improving with every shot.

When that's done, she'll carefully make safe the shotgun, put it down, and then load the pistol.

She starts to try to assume what little she remembers of Weaver stance from Earth, then quickly looks up pistol stances and corrects herself using a reference.

Okay. Carefully sight, and fire.

Yeah, she wasn't expecting to be accurate yet. It'll take at least three mags to get tolerable.

That's okay, she's got time.

Grinning and carefully shooting, she'll gradually refine her skills to something usable.

And by the end of it, she's not too shabby with either kind of firearms!

Well, she'll bring the guns back to the table, carefully clean them and pack them both safely away, then return them and their cleaning kits back to the front desk.

"Thank you," she says with a smile as she hands them over.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself!"

"I did, so much. I really needed this."

The woman who gave Sable the cleaning kit responds with a smile.

Sable smiles back. "Have a great day."

And out she goes. Hm. It seems to be about time for a late lunch. She'll find a cafe somewhere nearby, order a citrusy herbal tea, and maybe a burger if there's a place in delivery range? While she waits, she'll check her phone. Any messages she missed while she was lost in shooting focus?

She's received a PSA from the local government. "The upcoming few days have been forecast to be particularly hot, so measures have been taken on our end to protect your comfort and health. Booths across the city will be offering free shaved ice, together with the water fountains. 100% of public bathrooms have installed air conditioning to let you cool off, and many businesses have stepped up to work as freely accessible cooling centers. AC is not a mere luxury, heat kills, particularly the elderly and vulnerable. So consider tomorrow AC Appreciation Day!"

Awww, that's so sweet of them. 

She hasn't received a text back from Helena.

Fuck.

She closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath.

And then another.

She can cope.

Rejection sucks, but she can cope.

Fuuuuuuuck.

She tears up a little bit, wipes her eyes, and looks at her phone. 

Does this place do root beer floats? Or really rich ice-creamy milkshakes?

And can she find a distracting adventure story to read on her phone?

Just milkshakes, as a manner of fact, and the selection of adventure stories to read on her phone is practically endless.

Another shaky breath.

Nope, coping time. She sips a rich strawberry milkshake and picks out an adventure story that looks like it's got the right mix of thrills and laughs and gay — but not too much romance, or at least not too early, she's trying to take her mind off of Helena.

And she can pass her time thusly until her burger arrives.

It's pretty tasty, honestly. Thomassia continues to have pretty great food.

After that, she heads back to the apartment building, and sends a text to Sydney when she's a few minutes out.

Hey, should be home in just a few. Meet you at the basement?

And she tries to find her way to the basement.

Sydney responds:

Yup, I can take you to the car if you wish? See you in front? It might not be very easy to find.

Sounds good.

Off she goes to meet Sydney. Her expression may be a little tender by this point, but she's mostly got her mind off it.

Sydney finds Sable outside the apartment complex. "Follow me, it's not too far. It's a bit weird to have a car here, but it makes fursuiting and slumber parties so much easier."

"Yeah, I bet it would! Sounds like a lot to haul around." She'll follow gladly.

And Sydney takes her to the car. "How are these moved, anyway? It can't be just by hand, could it?"