Lone Ranger (Natasha/Orion)

"Ping! Ping!"

One shot, another disc pinged. Two shots, two discs pinged. Shooting's always felt remedial. There's nothing but you and your target. In a way, it quieted those voices, whispering to take another life, to bear witness to the fruits of your training.

One more shot, another ping. If not for this, Orion would have surely folded to the amount of paperwork required of him. He took his position to better the Vandenreich, to help the man who helped him. Somewhere, he's sure he wanted this too. Being a broken mess for too long isn't good for your health after all. Well, that's what the doctors say anyway.

The open ranges are nice though. It makes sense for these to exist. He's used to hunting living things, so something like this comes natural. With everything standing still, it's just a matter of when he wants to pull the trigger. That's another reason why he's using a real musket instead of his Spirit Weapon. Nothing beats something real, and it doesn't require he use any real energy to keep it materialized.

"Ping... Ping..."

There was nothing that beat an old-fashioned shooting range. From her perspective, it was a nostalgic way of assuring she would never lose her edge as a sharpshooter. It always reminded her of the old days back when she was still cultivating her abilities as a soldier in her special division in the army, too. There was nothing but pleasant memories when it came to wielding a gun.... almost.

Expecting to enjoy the common visit today, she brought along a Desert Eagle resembling one of her spirit weapons. She usually made a habit of testing out the preliminary weapon first before engaging in the utilization of spirit weapons. Nothing quite beat the old thing, you know? Of course, as she settles into the area, her hazel gaze sweeps the area to notice a raven-haired marksman hitting his targets with impressive accuracy.

Lifting a curious eyebrow, Natasha would would spin her gun around as she approached to gain a finer look, to appreciate the gunman's performance. Though she kept her distance so as to not disturb his flow, positioning her gun at a few targets of her own, firing off a few rounds at a set of moving targets herself, offering some commentary to fill the silence if he wished to respond.

"A fellow marksmen, eh? I don't see many of those in the Vandenreich nowadays. What''s yer' name?"

Extra pings; they weren't his. Someone else is here. He knew that already though. His senses, physical and spiritual, had already detected her the moment she stepped into his area. Despite his perfect accuracy, his eyes were always moving: searching, detecting, preparing. She doesn't know him, but he knows her. Natasha Miller: member of the Sternritter.

"Coordinator Freishutz," He responded, telling her his title instead of his first name.

Extra shots were fired, his musket soon bleeding smoke before he settled down. His targets have been expunged after all. There exists no purpose for his gun now. However, he didn't bother looking at her as he popped open his rifle and began inspecting it for wear and tear.

"We are Quincy. Ranged weaponry is heritage."

"I reckon ya' ain't wrong there. Either way, always nice to come across a fellow gunman. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Coordinator Freishutz. Name's Natasha."

Where his pings ended, Natasha's seemed to begin in rapid - yet unwavering - focus as the chamber of the gun within her palm loosed bullet after bullet, hazel eyes following each target with clockwork accuracy. From what little she observed of the man so far, he didn't strike her as the talkative type. Not that it bothered her any. She was use to the stoic types who didn't offer much commentary beyond a few words. It was somewhat endearing, truth be told. An empty cartridge allowed her a moment of reprieve. Hazel eyes that once observed nothing but targets return to regarding the man with curiosity. What division did he belong to? Was he new here?

"So, Coordinator... you new here? What division do you belong to?" She ventured.

"Your aim's good, but you're firing too fast. You're gun's not fully returning to its original position before each shot. Add approximately .5 seconds, and you should find better accuracy."

That didn't answer her question, nor did he particularly mean to give her advice. However, his eyes absently wavered towards her gun, and that caused his gaze to then shift towards her target. Each of her shots hit, and whoever she aimed at wouldn't last two shots, but he saw an angle for improvement and couldn't help but assist a member of the Vandenreich. His teacher was always berating him for bad habits. Guess he did absorb something from that old bastard's lessons.

"...Sorry. I am new. Todgestalten," He responded, making sure to actually answer her questions this time. Secrets are meant for enemies, not allies. He sees no reason to hide his status or rank from Natasha. However, the details of his past is confidential. That information is critical to a few cases. Casual conversation about it is not allowed.

To say the least of his social skills, he did at least return eye contact, his grey eyes bleak compared to her brightness. In a sense, they'd come off as complete opposites. Where Natasha bled hospitality, Orion lacked any presence. Their roles can be felt rather than explained, and to Orion, he doesn't mind being able to understand a person without diving too deep.

"Oh? No kiddin'? Color me impressed. You know yer stuff, sweetheart."

Natasha wasn't fazed at all by receiving his instruction instead of his name. She was prideful about her marksmanship, sure, but arrogance was the furthest thing from her mind concerning personal improvement. One could always learn a new trick each day, no matter who you were. Following his steps to the letter, she allowed herself a moment of composure to shift her gaze back at the targets.

Five seconds. A momentary silence followed five seconds, and after properly repositioning her gun, she loosed an array of steel bullets that pierced her targets with ideal accuracy. A soft whistle accompanied her success, repeating the pattern until he spoke up once more. Another moment of reprieve, and she turned her eyes back to her fellow coordinator.

"Ya coulda' fooled me, honey. That ability to pick up on the subtle differences in someone's form and habit at first glance speaks to years of battle experience. Todgestalten, eh? I remember meetin' someone from there once. Thought about signin' up for that division, in fact, but I reckon I would've been takin' up space from someone else."

Oh yeah. She's a Texan. Her accent is rather thick when it wants to be. He's had some experience with Texans since a lot of his work was in America. Their hospitality was somewhat upstanding, but they were also a stickler for their beliefs and whatnot. He had made sure to not interact with them too expensively. He usually felt as if he was taking advantage of them.

"You're too kind, but I wouldn't have been hired if I didn't have a keen eye."

Now, that's another simple fact. His experience was what got him here. Despite all his setbacks, they needed someone like him to help secure the Vandenreich's position in the world. He's a necessary evil to make sure the rest stay good. However, with that in mind, he couldn't help but frown at hearing that she thought of joining the ugly side of the Vandenreich.

"Your eyes are too pure, Ms. Miller. I do not doubt your ability, but I can tell you're nice. Your glow would be ruined by my shadow."

His shadow being just an analogy for the work that the Todgestalten are known for. Be it a compliment of sorts, someone like Natasha is best on the frontlines, helping children, women, and men with a strong smile. He's not capable of something like that.

"My glow? Well, I guess we can add flattery to yer' list of skills, too, honey."

Lifting a playful eyebrow in response to his words, Natasha offered a warm smile. Clearly flattered by his words, Natasha took a moment to think of a witty quip, but ended up with nothing. Genuine compliments were always difficult to contend with, and he had said it in such outright fashion that teasing him about it would've felt morally unjust. In the past, she certainly would have denied his words, but ever so slowly, at least as of recently, she had been learning to accept that she wasn't such a bad lady, after all. Just someone who lost her way in life and bit off more than she could chew. Expecting that part of it was a reference to her joining the Todgestalten, Natasha stroked the chamber of her gun, reloading the firearm as she paused for a moment, hazel eyes maintained on Orion.

"You seem pretty nice so far yourself, though. Shadow aside. Genuine. I like that. Todgestalten work can get pretty grisly from what I heard, so I s'pose yer not wrong in that aspect. None of my talents really suited that division outside of my skills as a sniper, but I highly doubt they're half as good compared to someone like Reida. What about you, Mister Freichutz? Considerin' your keen eye, I'm guessin' yer somethin' of a sharpshooter yourself?" She ventured curiously.

"I was groomed for this. Flattery, deceit, guns, and skill."

A child soldier, this is just something he knows. Maneuvering around a conversation is but one of many skills to him. It just so happens that it makes situations like this easier, even if he doesn't feel anything particular. Telling people what they'd like to hear isn't hard, and his straightforward tendencies helps get his point across without issue. Maybe telling her he was pretty much raised for this kind of stuff wasn't the best way to move the conversation, but she wanted to know.

"Groomed? Ah, so you were raised into it? I don't think I follow, but I reckon whoever instilled those particular set of talents in ya' musta' taught you pretty well."

Natasha didn't have a proper response off hand. It was a rather jarring reply compared to what he said moments ago, but she nevertheless found that blunt honesty respectable. Sharp. To the point. The type of disposition that allowed for no misunderstanding. Compared to someone who reveled in playful behavior, it made for an interesting contrast in moments like these. Besides, she was genuinely curious and he genuinely answered. To avoid letting any awkward silence set in, she went back to pursuing her targets with clockwork accuracy, gunfire composing a momentary melody to fill the air.

"I think I see why your in the Todgestalten. You're a pretty sharp, man. Direct and right to the point. Well, if we're on the subject of skills, what's your preferred gun of choice, partner? The rifle?"