[Yeah no, Wichita. Annabeth's got a knife-dagger-thing. No celestial bronze version of a pistol.
She takes the gun in her hand, a little surprised at the weight and sure to point the barrel of it away from Wichita. It doesn't take a genius to know where the bullets come out, and that it probably shouldn't be pointed at Wichita as she's talking.
Through the little speech, Annabeth listens carefully. In theory, it doesn't sound all that complicated, but not everything is always as it seems and the last thing she needs is to, somehow, screw this up.]
So safety, trigger, only point at threats. [Annabeth turns to the target out in the gun range, holding up the gun and - again - a little surprised by how heavy it feels in her hand.] That it?
no subject
She takes the gun in her hand, a little surprised at the weight and sure to point the barrel of it away from Wichita. It doesn't take a genius to know where the bullets come out, and that it probably shouldn't be pointed at Wichita as she's talking.
Through the little speech, Annabeth listens carefully. In theory, it doesn't sound all that complicated, but not everything is always as it seems and the last thing she needs is to, somehow, screw this up.]
So safety, trigger, only point at threats. [Annabeth turns to the target out in the gun range, holding up the gun and - again - a little surprised by how heavy it feels in her hand.] That it?