"Not a clue," Dave says without shame, holding the blaster loosely and swinging it idly from his fingers. "But I figure I can still brain someone with it. Weaponizing random shit is something I actually am good at. I'm like a pissed-off MacGyver, making projectiles outta garbage."
He spins the blaster on a finger like an real cowboy -- hey, he is from Texas -- and mimes shooting it, complete with a little "pchoo" sound effect before tucking it away in the holster at his hip. Dave moves to North's window, hopping up onto the ledge unceremoniously and leaning out into the wind.
"Anyway, let's get this show on the road. Tracks. Whatever."
Inclining his head at North, Dave swings himself up onto the roof of the train car.
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He spins the blaster on a finger like an real cowboy -- hey, he is from Texas -- and mimes shooting it, complete with a little "pchoo" sound effect before tucking it away in the holster at his hip. Dave moves to North's window, hopping up onto the ledge unceremoniously and leaning out into the wind.
"Anyway, let's get this show on the road. Tracks. Whatever."
Inclining his head at North, Dave swings himself up onto the roof of the train car.