Changing air pressure of the main door sliding open, the thin mix of scents and differing humidity made Gabriel half turn, watching as Paulson set up another station for the new guy. MacLeod. His mouth curled upward slightly, and he was tempted to do his best Methos impression with, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, but he refrained. The other man might not find it as humorous as he did.
One tentacle reached up and pulled his ear protectors down around his neck while another pressed the button that brought the target back to the station to be replaced with a fresh one. All this done without looking, without thought, tentacles curling and working effortlessly.
"I do," Gabriel answered, his voice pleasant. "Never hurts to be a crack shot. I like knowing that I'll hit the target every time."
As he spoke, he held the Beretta with one tentacle and inserted a fresh clip. One of the middle tentacles snaked toward Paulson, who held out another Beretta, butt outward. Gabriel wrapped around it, brought it close, taking another clip from Paulson, who'd done this so often that it was routine. His hands flipped off the safeties and he turned to the target again, smaller tentacles pushing his ear protectors back into place. Without hesitation he fired both and the paper target, at the far end of the range, disintegrated under the onslaught.
That? Was very satisfactory. Gabriel turned back, the guns sliding into his hands, and he turned back to MacLeod. He plucked off the ear protectors once more.