[Hey if she wants to argue, HE'LL ARGUE. But he sees the shift in her, so he doesn't rise to the challenge. Well. Not immediately and loudly. Instead, he sits back in his chair, presses his hand over his mouth, and stares at her. It happens less and less, but there are still days when he looks at her and sees her prone on the roof of a sunken building, blood on her lips but none in her cheeks. He has to blink that away now.]
Then we're spending more time in the shooting range.
[Spam]
Then we're spending more time in the shooting range.