He had stopped over-analyzing Russell’s actions. This new place was new, and he tried for it to not be all together too much of a culture shock. So he told him what he used to tell his friends in smoke lounges, “Education’s a bit overrated anyhow. The world wouldn’t be functioning if the people didn’t play the roles that everybody likes to neglect. It’s a pretty poor deal, if you ask me. It’s like carrying the world on your back and not being recognized for it.”
It was all well and good idle chatter that was to show that he was friendly. There was something warm about it too, the way he talked once he had stopped staring, like the way he barked out a distracted laugh as he kept his eyes on the gun, the cans, and Russell’s hands. “Well, only if you say so.” The hold on the barrel was smiled at slightly in return.
His own hands flexed around his gun and shifted the weight, trying to access some long distant muscle memory in the back of his thoughts. Somewhere.
Russell had to admit that he felt a little better that it didn’t feel like his every action was being watched, such as a twitch of a hand here, or a sleeve tug there. He would be able to relax, just little, at this new turn.
"That’s…" he trailed off, not entirely understanding what the medic meant by that.
He tried to think of the right kind of response, one that wouldn’t sound like he was complete ignorant, or worse, hadn’t been listening to him.
He turned his head back for a moment so he could reply.
"That’s real insightful," he said then, with a small nod, before turning back to the crates.
Oh yeah, he was meant to be showing this guy how to fire a gun.
"Okay… first thing is, I highly recommend, if you’re starting out or coming back to it after a time, to hold it in both hands, and holding it out in front of your chest. Makes it easy to aim."
"Also be prepared for knockback. Even pistols can do that if you’re not ready."