Target Practice

Ding!

"You see that?"

"See what?"

Ding!

"There. I hit another. Did you see?"

"I didn't see nothin'."

Ding!

"Well, you would see if you'd actually pay attention."

"To what?"

Ding!

"Now you're just being rude."

"Come on, kid. What? I'm supposed to watch you when the ceiling's way more fucking interestin'?"

Ding!

"I'm hitting them all."

"You want a medal?"

That time, no sound accompanied their words. And, with a sigh, Revy glanced over at where her son stood in the middle of the living room.

"You're not watching."

"Don't get your little panties in a wad, you brat," she grumbled. "I know that you're hittin' the cans."

"But you said you'd watch."

"And I did! When you hit one. Then I got bored."

"Revy-"

"What do you fucking want from me?" she growled, sending him a glare. "I'm already spending time with you, aren't I?"

"No, you're not. You're just smoking a cigarette and ignoring the fact that I'm hitting all of the cans-"

"Good for fucking you, kid. Is that what you want? Huh?" She went back to staring at the ceiling. "Damn brat."

At the moment, they were in the tiny living room of their one bedroom apartment (the bedroom went to him while his parents stayed out on the couch, though, according to Revy, that was because the pullout was much nicer than the mattress in his room. He knew, of course, they really just didn't want to leave him out in the front room all alone. They didn't lead the most privileged of lives, after all). Revy had taken her usual residence on the couch, laying out on it with her knees pulled up and boots on the cushion, mostly thinking about how hungry and bored she was. That, apparently, wasn't cutting it for the kid.

He had, after all, spent all that time setting up his parents used beer cans all around the living room in different places, to prove to her once more that he too had some prowess when it came to shooting. It was, after all, the only way to get any recognition out of the woman, truly.

Revy wasn't very cooperative that day though and, with a sigh, the boy just went back to shooting, figuring if he kept it up, eventually she'd just have to pay attention. With Rock out and not there to torment, there wasn't much else for her to do.

Ding!

"So you think I can do it again?"

"Bore me to tears? So soon after right now?"

Ding!

"Shoot a real gun again, Revy."

Snort.

Ding!

"I'm serious! Look how good I am with this stupid toy one."

"Again, ceiling is more impressive."

"Revy-"

"You fucking shot someone, kid."

"Isn't that the point?"

"You shot Rico!"

"And Eda said that he would be okay."

"In the arm. When he wasn't even standing near you!"

"The gun recoiled."

"Yeah, they fucking do that when they don't have rubber pellets in them."

"Revy-"

"Just shoot your damn cans," she growled, about done with him. "I'm listenin', alright? You're doing good. Good for you."

He didn't smile then, but did go back to practicing.

Ding!

"You should wear that new shirt I bought you."

"I don't like it."

Ding!

"You little shit. I spent money on that, you know."

"I like what I have on now."

Ding!

"You can't always wear that. That same damn, plain shirt and disgusting jeans. Now I buy you some clothes with some flair-"

"They're ugly."

Ding!

"You fucking brat. You can't just wear the same thing every day."

"Why not? You almost always wear what you have on."

Ding!

"You know, kid, you keep mouthing off and I might just take some target practice of my own."

"Oh yeah?"

Ding!

"Yeah. With your head!"

That time, he turned to glare at her, lowering his gun.

"Maybe," he said slowly as, in a way that only he could, the boy said the one thing that could always get under her skin. "I'll just forgo using a gun."

"Eh?"

Nodding, he stared at her with matching amber irises. "Maybe I'll just use blades."

"Blades?"

"Yeah. You know, real weapons. Not stupid bullets. That's cheating. It takes real skill to toss a knife and have it hit your mark."

"Real skill?" Revy snorted. "Hardly. I'd probably be a master of it in a day, if I gave it a whirl, it's that simple."

"Would not."

"Would too." She even narrowed her eyes at him then. "My talent with my guns would only transfer over."

"You can't transfer over what you don't have to begin with."

Now he'd done it. And he knew it too. Her eyes had that dark quality to them that he'd learned to fear.

"C'mere."

"Revy-"

"Now!"

And he couldn't run from her. He'd learned when he was very young not to run from her. If Rock wasn't around, he was more or less stuck with whatever punishment she handed down on him.

Dropping his gun to the ground, he made the short walk over to the couch (the living room wasn't that big), standing there in front of the woman and waiting for whatever it was she was going to give him.

A smirk, as it turned out. Which, usually, he would be smarter about and realize wasn't good. Revy even so much as having a void look, honestly anything other than a scowl, was bad news. But when she gave him that look, for a moment, he returned it.

Then she reached up and struck him in the ear.

"Ow, Mom," he complained as when she was rough with him was the only time he ever called her that. Reaching up to rub at the side of his head, he said, "I didn't even do anything."

He'd annoyed her and, honestly, that was enough in Revy's world. Besides, she hadn't hit him that hard and he knew it. She never did.

"You stupid little shit," she retorted though she did sit up then, planting her feet on the ground as she glared at him. When he only stared at her, she said, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you gonna get back to practicin' or what?"

That time, her scowl didn't fade, but his grin did grow as, after nodding, he rushed around the room, setting back up the cans he'd already shot down. Then he collected some more of his rubber pellets to replace in his toy gun.

"Alright," he said, "but you gotta watch."

"What do you think I'm doing, kid? Huh?"

And she did too, sit there and watch him. He tried not to get nervous about it as he turned different ways to aim at all the cans. Revy looked just as displeased and bored with him as always, smoking all the while, but he knew better than that. If she didn't want to watch, she wouldn't be. He had to be entertaining her at least somewhat.

Ding!

"You think now I can shoot a real gun again?"

"You hit a few cans. You ain't a sharpshooter yet."

Ding!

"I can't ever get better if you don't let me try."

"Tell you what, you manage to not shoot anyone with this toy gun of yours for, say, another week or so, then we'll talk about it, huh?"

Ding!

"Alright!"

"Hey! Watch where you point that, huh? You shoot me and I won't feel so bad about drawin' on you!"

"Sorry," he laughed with a grin. "I just got excited. That's all. I mean, the sooner I get real good at shooting a real gun, I get to go out on jobs with you, don't I?"

"And who the fuck said that?"

"Revy-"

"Like I'm gonna split fucking pay with you. Bad enough how many slices it gets now."

Shaking his head, he went back to his cans.

Ding!

"Yeah, well-"

"You can't pause like that."

Ding!

"Like what?"

"Like that." Revy pointed at him then. "You don't always have time to aim like that. You just have to shoot and know that your bullets going where you want. You hesitate and bam!" She held a finger gun up to her head and pretended to shoot herself. "Your brains, the little that you have, are splattered all over your shirt. You want that?"

"No," he complained. "But-"

"You just take the shot," she told him. "It don't gotta be perfect. You can always take a second one."

"No," he replied, glancing at her. "You can't."

Shrugging, she said, "You definitely can't if you give your enemy a chance to take you down first. Which is exactly what you're doin'."

With a frown, he went back to shooting the cans.

Ding!

"Don't even think about it, just-"

Ding!

"See?" She leaned forwards then, resting her elbows against her knees as she stared at the boy. "That's how it's gotta be."

And that's how it was. He missed. A lot. And eventually Revy got bored again, moving to lay back on the couch once more and antagonize him more than help him (she did that a lot), but he didn't complain. He liked it a lot better than when she was passed out drunk or away on a job.

The time wasn't much later when the…incident happened. Namely, his father came home. Which wouldn't have been a big deal. Had he not opened the front door at the exact moment that one of the pellets ricocheted across the room, striking him square in the eye.

"Damn it," Rock cursed as he came into the apartment.

"Nice going," Revy remarked, glaring over at their son. "You- Hey! Rock, you bought pizza."

"Yes, Revy, I'm alright," he grumbled. "Other than the fact that I might be blind."

"Didn't ask that. Kid, go get the pizza before he drops it."

"Sorry," the boy told his father as he rushed to take the box from him. This was to the man's benefit anyhow, as he was only holding it with one hand anyhow, using the other to rub at his eye. "I really didn't mean to."

"I know," Rock sighed as he headed off to the bathroom. "Just no more practicing in the house, alright?"

"Yes-"

"Give me that!" Revy came to snatch the box from the boy before marching back over to the coffee table and setting it down. "You know I get first dibs."

He did. She always had. For as long as he could remember it had been that way. He also knew though that, no matter her insistence that it wasn't so (and he rarely brought it up anyhow, for fear of ruining it) the woman never actually took the largest slice. The second to largest, sure, but the biggest one was saved for him. It was just a given.

"I think my eye's bleeding!"

"You big baby," Revy grumbled as she went to take a seat on the couch. "It's always something with you, Rock."

"Revy-"

"What do you want me to do about it anyhow? I don't know how to bandage an eye!" She took a bite of pizza before offering up thoughtfully, "Maybe a beer'll make you feel better."

The boy glanced after his father, into the adjoining bathroom. "Are you really bleeding?"

With a sigh, Rock reported, "No. But it definitely doesn't feel great."

Rolling her own eyes, Revy asked, "Do you want me to look at it?"

"Considering your advice was to just drink until I felt better? No."

"Big baby."

Slowly, their son went to join his mother on the couch and, after his was certain that his father wasn't gravely injured, he whispered something to her.

"Is this gonna count as me accidentally shooting someone?"

Revy just glanced over at the open bathroom door where Rock was still staring in the mirror at his eye.

"Nah," she said, patting him on the head. "It's only Rock. He'll heal. I've done way worst stuff to him on purpose."

"That's not something to brag about to him, Revy," the man retorted from the bathroom. "At all."

Still, she only winked at the boy and, with a giggle, he dug into his own, largest slice of the pizza.

Poor Rock. He gets it from the kid and Revy.