Guns & Roses

Chapter 45

                                 [Deimos]

Gunshots rang through the building, falsely threatening a battle. In reality, it was just the sounds of purgatory. He knew it was purgatory, even if he didn't remember when exactly he got here. Partially because he was suddenly much shorter, which still stung his feelings, even now. Mostly because Sanford wasn't here, and he knew for a fact Sanford wouldn't just leave him somewhere like this. Though from experience, he was glad Sanford wasn't here. Purgatory Sanford was an absolute ass, and he just felt pathetic around them.

For now, it seemed to be confining him to a room. It seemed purgatory was being a little more experimental, by seeing how long he could last alone in a bare room. He couldn't find anything to help him get comfortable, but that wasn't all too surprising. The place was designed to make you uncomfortable, so it wasn't like blankets would be laying around.

That being said, even after all his experience it still didn't make him any less uneasy. Unless he was fighting something or those random gunshots were going around, it was dead silent, and he had nobody there. It felt unnatural for him to be quiet this long, and he longed for someone to talk to.

At least, he knew he wouldn't be alone here forever. He just had to hold out for a while longer. After all, they always came for him eventually. But until then, he was stuck being alone, unless he was either fighting or trying to sleep away time.

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[Sheriff]

Almost. He'd almost hit the bottle, but the fact it hadn't shattered into specks of glass told him he barely missed it. Nervously, he looked to Hank, though he was spaced out with his arms crossed, so he tried his hand at another shot.

He was surprise when Hank took him up on the shooting lessons, even if he didn't seem too interested in teaching. Not that he minded. He knew how to shoot, and, for the most part, he knew how to hit a target. And while, yes, he was training up his accuracy, it wasn't to be more lethal.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. He reasoned that if his aim was good enough to hit the small, extremely vulnerable spots on someone, it would also be good enough to intentionally miss those spots. Nevada was tough, sure, but he just couldn't bring himself to kill someone who didn't really deserve it.

Finally, it shattered, and he looked to Hank for some form of approval of his task. But, he remained spaced out a while longer, at least until he realised Sheriff was staring. Confused, he looked to the bottle, which was no longer there, before giving Sheriff a curt nod.

Sighing, he hyped himself up to ask Hank something, "don't you think I can try something new?"

Hank looked at him, puzzled, "like what?" His tone wasn't particularly friendly, though he still sounded intrigued.

"I dunno... You just seem to always know when someone is around a corner, even if you don't hear anything..." He trailed off, wondering if Hank was disapproving of his rambling. Maybe he wasn't the smartest guy around, but he could pick up on if someone was - or wasn't - enjoying his company after a while. And for Hank it seemed, rambling seemed a big turn off in terms of conversation.

"That's reaction," Hank replied blandly, "you'll need to do something else about that." Sheriff frowned slightly, wondering what on Earth he could do for his reaction time, and why Hank had to be so difficult sometimes. Surely he knew an exercise, a test, something to help him out. Though, it wasn't like he'd ever say this out loud, in fact he couldn't complain at all. At least Hank was a lousy teacher rather than an assassin trying to kill him.

Sighing, he walked to the rock the bottle had been propped up on. Behind it were more bottles, and he stacked a few before finding one that wasn't quite empty. According to the label it was rum, though he still sniffed it suspiciously. While the label may lie to him, his nose would never. It was, in fact, rum.