lifetothefullest | [IC Inbox]

[Ephemera nods. It's a place to start. Work with what people know, CT always said. Don't throw them in the deep end right of. He offers one of the knives to Sweets, hilt first. They're small and surprisingly light.]

It's the same idea with these guys. They're light, they go in a straight line if you aim them right. Usually people don't fight with 'em unless they're really good, but we're not talking fighting. Just throwing. It's good for your depth perception.

[He flashes Sweets another grin.]

You got two eyes, you're already doing better than me on that one.

[Lance takes the knife cautiously when offered, and Ephemera's right; it's really light, which is strange, but he wonders if that--combined with what Ephemera says--means it's balanced not to rotate and therefore be easier to throw. Not that he'd have any idea.

He gives Ephemera a flat but amused look for the comment about having two eyes.]

Good, I'll need all the help I can get.

[He doesn't try throwing it just yet, though, waiting for more instruction and also maybe a demonstration.]

Watch me first.

[Ephemera picks up another knife, holding it in his right hand. He shows Sweets how he's holding it; loosely, ready for an overhand toss. There's a target hanging on the wall a few yards away. Good for starting out.]

Don't try to make 'em spin, or they might land hilt-first. And bounce. I'm gonna throw overhand this time. That was easier for me to learn.

[There's not much to it. At this distance, Ephemera doesn't need to pull his arm back. He simply raises his hand, aims, and flicks. The knife goes flying. Sticks true.]

It's just like darts. All in the wrist. You try.

[Lance listens carefully, all focus and determination as he usually is when learning a skill, and he nods seriously after the demonstration and instructions. Okay. Right. He's got this.]

Okay.

[Give him a moment to glance around and make sure no one is going to accidentally walk in the line of fire, and then he takes a deep breath and tries to aim, and... Immediately overthinks everything. Is his arm bent right? Is the angle correct? How much power does he need to put behind it?

He tries to push all those thoughts aside, reminding himself that there's no consequence to failure here, and just throws the knife. It doesn't stick, but that's because it hits the wall off to the side of the target; it hit blade first, but not with enough power to lodge into the wall.]

That... Wasn't great.

It takes like ten thousand repetitions to commit something to muscle memory.

[Almost nobody gets it on the first try. Ephemera draws a combat knife from his sleeve, showing it to Sweets briefly before lining up a throw. It's a k-bar, much heavier, not balanced for throwing at all. The hilt is too heavy. And yet--

He throws. It lands.]

Practice, Doc. Then you can do fun stuff like this. C'mon. Throw again.

[Lance watches cautiously at the appearance of the other knife, but it's obvious Ephemera's just going to show off with it and therefore it's nothing to worry about. And it is pretty cool.]

I'm not sure I'm going to commit to ten thousand repetitions.

[But as he says it he picks up another knife, carefully aiming before throwing again. This time it's more on target, but rotates just too much and clatters to the floor.

He vaguely wonders if he should be concerned about scratching up the floor and wall of the Speakeasy, then decides he doesn't care that much. He's been known to be a little petty before, after all.]

Ah, come on. It'd be badass.

[Plus it's a great trick to get free drinks.

He nods, tracking the throw.]

Again. Don't think about it so hard. Makes your hand tense up.

It would be pretty badass, but I'm not sure it would be practical.

[Although at least he isn't totally ruling it out. But stabbing someone, even at a distance through throwing knives, is not something he's interested in and so he's not sure how much effort he wants to put into a skill that's going to be just for entertainment.

But it's not like he has to decide right now, and so he picks up another knife.]

That's way easier said than done.

[He can't help thinking hard about it. But he tries to clear his mind a little before he next throw all the same, and this time it hits in the correct place and with the blade forward, but just not hard enough to stick in; still, Lance is definitely encouraged, brightening a little immediately.]

Hey, I hit it.

There you go.

[It's not easy learning how to use a knife, let alone throw one. Ephemera flashes Sweets a bright grin.]

Kinda fun, right? I used to bet people I couldn't hit a target, got me free drinks all the time.

Well, with free drinks as an incentive...

[He's joking, clearly, but still. it is fun, now that he's getting less nervous.]

Did you learn as a hobby, or part of your job?

Hell yeah they are!

[Ephemera doesn't party like he used to, but he remembers enjoying it. Getting half drunk and dancing with strangers, making people laugh. Good times.]

Hnn? Work, I guess. My sergeant, she was a close quarters specialist. Goddamn master with a blade. She had this trick where she'd throw a k-bar into someone's rifle and eject their ammo.

[He shakes his head a little.]

Seemed pretty cool when I was eighteen. She only made fun of me a little when I was learning.

That sounds pretty cool, yeah. And useful.

[And extremely swag, honestly.]

Did you ever master it yourself?

She was the best.

[Ephemera's expression is fond and a little sad. He misses Chica the most, out of everyone in his squad.]

Nah. Even with my HUD running calculations, I could never get the angle right. She just had a knack for it.

[He's quiet a moment.]

Her name was Jessica. But everybody called her Chica, 'cause she into all that girly stuff. Always had her lipstick on, even when we were jumping.

[He smiles a little at the comments about Chica--Jessica--and the fact that Ephemera is talking about her a bit more.]

My girlfriend wears really high heels, even when analyzing a dead body. I have no idea how she does it.

[But it makes her happy, and that's what matters. But Daisy's behavior means Lance can easily imagine Chica as Ephemera describes her, at least.]

[Ephemera nods, watching Sweets. It doesn't hurt as much as it used to, talking about his squad. Before, when he'd been Sharkface, he'd been convinced that the hurt was so strong it had drowned out anything else he might possibly feel. And the only things left then had been his love for them, and rage over their passing.]

Yeah. It was something. I didn't really get it. But it was important to her. Daisy's your girlfriend, right?

[From the dream. Ephemera sketched her, once.]

She seemed nice.

Yeah. She is.

[It's to both questions, but especially the last one.]

She's very kind, but not to the extent of being meek or allowing anyone to take advantage of her. She's just... Really positive.

[He admires a lot of things about Daisy, especially those points; Lance has a hard time finding the balance between needing approval and letting people get away with things he shouldn't because of it, and although his outlook is generally optimistic he doesn't have the incredible, boundless energy for it that Daisy does.]

Hnn.

[Ephemera thinks he can imagine that. She and Sweets probably suited each other.]

How'd you two meet?

Solving a murder case. She was an intern with Dr. Brennan, and I was consulting from the FBI, so we ended up having a conversation.

[And it was as simple as that; one of those instant connection. Lance goes to retrieve the knives from the target and the floor, returning to stand next to Ephemera again and place the weapons on the counter.]

She minored in psychology, so we had something to talk about right away, and it just went from there.

Huh. Weirder places to start, I guess.

[Why wouldn't they meet at work? Most people do, Ephemera supposes.

He picks up one of the little knives, miming an overhand throw this time. He does it twice, so Sweets can see. Then he throws. Hears it land. Not quite where he meant it to - about an inch too far to the right. Ephemera frowns.]

Overhand throw. They're harder for me. You get more force in the throw, but you can overcompensate pretty easy. You try.

[A pause.]

Sounds like you were happy.

[He watches what Ephemera is doing carefully, nodding to show he understands, though he can't imagine he'll be particularly good at this style of throwing. He's even less encouraged by that even Ephemera doesn't get a bullseye.

But he'll try anyway, picking up a knife and practicing the motion a little, but he stops in place at the last comment. Yeah. They were happy. Finally, things were going right, but 'were' is more accurate a word that it might've been intended to be.

He realizes he's gone quiet again and pretty much frozen in place, then mentally shakes himself out of it. He's not doing this again.]

Yeah.

[And that's all he'll say about that topic, deflecting immediately after a quick glance to make sure there's no one around to overhear; he's not totally sure if it's still a secret or not, but he wants to be safe before asking--]

Speaking of couples, how are you and Drake doing?

[After, you know. Everything. And he still hasn't thrown the knife yet, but he's giving himself a moment to make sure he's steady before tossing around any bladed weapons.]

[Maybe that wasn't a good thing to say. Ephemera shifts, looking away. But then Sweets recovers, asks a question of his own, and Ephemera breathes. Better. Okay.]

Good, I think?

[He pauses. Nods.]

Yeah. Good. He's living with me now. My place is still in one piece.

[It wasn't as big an adjustment as he'd worried. They move around each other well.]

.....I'm pretty new at this sort of thing. But he's. Good about that. Patient with me.

Edited (arg spelling) 2018-01-19 04:13 (UTC)

Moving in together is a big step, so I'm glad it's working out for you.

[He means that, returning to miming the motion for throwing a few more times before deciding to go for it. It's... Way too hard, which causes the knife to spin, and it hits the wall hard and bounces off before skittering across the floor.

Oops.]

...Yeah, I see what you mean about the overcompensating.

I guess. Always lived with other people. But was different, with them.

[Aside from prison, but he's not really in the mood to talk about that.

Ephemera just grins.]

Yeah, that happens sometimes. 's why most people don't use throwing knives in the field. Unless you're really good, they're more trouble than they're worth. Still awesome at winning you free drinks at the bar, though.

Maybe it seems like a bigger deal to me because I usually prefer living a lone.

[And so it was a huge step to move in with Daisy, or not do, as the case was the first time. He was honestly still getting used to it back home, but making sure he could help her out during the pregnancy was the most important thing.

And he'll just prevent himself from thinking too much more about this, refocusing on picking up another knife to try again.]

That sounds like what I'd just this skill for, yeah. Showing off.

[He says it with a small grin, half joking, but he definitely doesn't expect himself to get good enough at this for it to be practically useful even if he wanted to do. Instead he'll just stick to making bets, provided he even gets that good at it.]

What's that like?

[It's a genuine question. Ephemera can't remember the last time he lived entirely alone. There were a few days in Hadriel, when he'd still been figuring shit out, and Locus' men had given him his own quarters back on the Tartarus, but he was still Sharkface then.

Another thing he doesn't' want to talk about right now. This is fun. They're having fun.

He nods at Sweets.]

Throw again. You're getting it.

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