>From: "Smith, Greg"
>
>> >> Location: The hills northeast of Mutha and the ranch
>> >> Ship time: 0997.261.1100
>> >> Ranch time: 0997.261.1200
>> >> Characters: Woof and Jezebel
>
>>>"Deal. And we have to get a move on, to get this going before the
>>>flood! Let me know when you're dressed," he says with a grin.
>>
>>"Trust me I've been much more naked in front of guys who were
>>considerably less savory than you. Remember I was a dancer for a
>>while and I did serve with the baddest ass bunch of boys in military
>>uniforms for a few years."
>>
> >Woof laughs. "I forgot you were a dancer!" he says, "though now that
> >you mention it, I could see the moves there!"
>
>She looks at Woof for a moment, "Woof, contrary to popular opinion, none of
>my dancing evet involved a shiny brass pole or a shower-
>stall. I danced and sang in four musicals before loosing my mind."
ooc - Apparently I was drinking heavilly when I wrote this line.
>"Really? 'Singing in the Rain'? and all that?" He laughs. "Loosed
>your mind, did you? And once it was loose, did you get lucid? I've
>heard of loose women, but never quite like that!" he grins.
Jezebel blinks, "You know those guns are loaded," she shakes her head, "and
you knew what I ment anyways. Just because I suffer from trouth mubble
there's no reason to make fun of me, I can make fun of me plenty enough for
the both of us."
>>She throws the wet tank top at the back of Woof's head.
>>THWAP!
>>"Besides you didn't seem to have a problem with the wet t-shirt
>>contest we had going on here before." She watches him as he
>>struggles to get the shirt off his head. Before he can return the
>>favor she halts him with a hand, "Don't you dare, that's designer."
>
> >"I've never had a problem with wet t-shirt contests!" he says, trying
> >to get her wet clothes off his head. He freezes as he was going to
> >throw. "Hmmm, he says, holding out the 'designer' tank top by the
> >straps, just beyond her reach from behind the horses...
>
>Jezebel leans over and takes the shirt back. "Lily Leung, brilliant
>woman, amazing head for business." She folds the shirt carefully. "Can't
>pick wine or partners worth a shit though, utterly
>hopeless."
>
>>"I think honestly, one shot," she pulls another top out of her pack
>>and looks at Woof, "if it doesn't blow up the next one we puncture
>>with the knife." She pauses for a moment before putting the second
>>top on. It's black with a long red chinese dragon down the right
>>side. Jezebel pulls a fresh set of boxers out of the saddle bag and
>>walks around behind the horse before stripping out of the wet ones
>>and putting the dry ones one.
>
She continues to dress, pants, wipes her feet off carefully before putting
socks and boots back on, combat harness, shoulder holster, butterfly holster
and finally duster.
Once Woof *thinks* she's dressed, he starts getting the horses together, the
rope coiled and around the pommel of his saddle.
>>Jezebel looks over at Woof as she straightens her hair out with her
>>fingers before looking up the hill for a good spot to take the shot.
>>Her right hand pulls the bipod out of her cargo pocket and spins it
>>unconciously like some oversized metallic drum stick.
>>
>>"Right about there," she points up the hill, grabs the rifle and
>>snaps the bipod into place with a practiced ease. There's a soft
>>click as the components lock together.
>
>Woof walks with the horses, and hands the reigns of her horse to her
>as he passes. He swings up into the saddle, and rides to the top of
>the hill.
>
>>She takes the reigns of her horse and starts to head up towards the
>>location where she can get a good angle shot on the back corner of
>>the device and hopefully flood it out.
>
>Woof takes her horse as she gets to where she wants to shoot, then
>pulls out his camera. "Let me catch this on film," he says. When he
>is ready, he lets her know. "Count it down...I'll snap several," he
>adds.
Jezebel shakes her head as she clicks the bipod legs out softly, with a
practiced thumb she presses the quick release for the lens covers and the
open with a soft pop. She rests the rifle on a rock and moves herself into
position, with both eyes open she lines up the back corner of the device in
her line of fire. Her breathing slows as she flicks the safety off and
wraps her finger around the trigger.
The stock eases gently into her left cheak, stupid cupie doll mirror cheak
bone still doesn't feel right for this. She pauses for a moment waiting for
everything to feel right, the waves rise and fall against the metallic
surface in her sights. Jezebels breathing continues on at a measures pace,
her fingers tightens on the trigger, there's a soft click as the first stage
is released.
Very softly as she exhales a shallow breath she utters a single word.
"Now." Her finger pulls the trigger back in a single fluid movement.
>Woof snaps the shots as Jez takes the shot...
CRACK!
Lysia Jezebel David
