[ Arcade mutters a sort of vague, indecipherable affirmation to that, more concerned with the feeling of Len's hand folded over his than speaking clearly. It's not as if he needs to, anyway; Len knows exactly where he's aiming his rifle, seems to know exactly what Arcade is going to see, even before he sees it. Like a tidy little magic trick (only at the end of this one, the audience members haven't volunteered, and he never un-disappears them).
Dumb is an understatement, he realizes, squinting through the surprisingly clear scope. And it momentarily distracts him from the weightier part of this demonstration, the less pleasant thoughts of what, exactly, it is Len does with this rifle, beyond the not so casual, long-distance voyeurism. ]
Is that a plunger? [ A soft laugh breaks his brief silence, and he lifts his head without thinking, turning into the scant space left between them. ]
Do you think he really goes around committing atrocities in that, or was it a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing?
no subject
Dumb is an understatement, he realizes, squinting through the surprisingly clear scope. And it momentarily distracts him from the weightier part of this demonstration, the less pleasant thoughts of what, exactly, it is Len does with this rifle, beyond the not so casual, long-distance voyeurism. ]
Is that a plunger? [ A soft laugh breaks his brief silence, and he lifts his head without thinking, turning into the scant space left between them. ]
Do you think he really goes around committing atrocities in that, or was it a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing?