As soon as John said he was ready, Iris took a breath too. It was almost impossible for her to get a steady one in, because John was so close over her shoulder, muscles contracting along her arms, that every tendon along her back and arm went painfully tense, as if waiting for a blow. She kept herself there literally by will alone, and she would have been shaking if she'd allowed herself one iota of slack.
She took another breath, unable to lean back into John's support, but at least not spurning it. Another, a slow in, and on the exhale she squeezed the trigger, exactly how she'd been taught, pulling and pushing with both hands to compensate for the recoil. Right-handed, she pulled right with the heart-stopping bang, and the bullet went wide. Without John, she would have dropped the weapon immediately, but her eyes were wide, wide open.