Who: Alice Kingsleigh & Nicholas D. Wolfwood What: Talking and educating about guns When: 2/28 Where: A gun shop in Orange, CA Rating/Warnings: PG13 Status: Complete!
Wolfwood, unlike probably every soldier who’d ever served, had returned his standard-issue M4 and MK 17 rifles when he’d been discharged, along with his M9 pistol. But he was used to having firearms around, and wanted to have at least a handgun, if only to keep himself in shooting trim. So he’d come to a gun shop in Orange that had a good reputation, and was looking around.
Alice had come today to the gunshop, wanting to get the average American’s view on guns. At least ones in California. She’d spoken to people in every state she passed and every one was a little different. A place as liberal as California ought to prove a little interesting, she thought.
She finished up with the store owner, a large burly man with the sweetest smile, and moved around the shop, taking in the weapons and accessories.
Wolfwood figured he’d leave the rifle shopping for another day when he had two good hands, but getting a nice handgun would be all right. He was looking at the display now, trying to find one with similar specs to his old M9. He turned a corner and bumped into a slight girl, which sent shock waves through his shoulder, and he gritted his teeth. “Sorry,” he managed.” It wasn’t her fault it hurt like hell.
“My fault, I was distracted by the bright pink handbag,” she said, pulling out an ammo pouch that was indeed, pink. “I’m not sure one wouldn’t be laughed off the rifle range wearing something like that, but then neither fashion nor guns are my area of expertise and a lady I spoke to a little earlier was rather gung-ho in pink camo.”
Her accent was very much proper British, and while she was supposed to be a proper lady she was rarely so. And the way she said ‘gung-ho’ was hilarious. She had on a bicycle helmet with a camera on top of it and soft blonde curls spilled out from underneath, all over her shoulders.
Wolfwood, when the pain cleared, was amused. “The gun ranges I’ve been to are pretty lax about fashion, honestly. As long as it’s bright enough to make sure you don’t get hit.” She looked faintly ridiculous, especially with the helmet cam, but he didn’t want to patronize her. He’d never liked being patronized, and it seemed to have come back with a vengeance now that he was temporarily one-handed.
“Do you mind chatting for a bit?” She tapped her helmet. “I’m a video blogger and I’ve biked cross country. I try to interview people at gun shops in every state I can, just for different perspectives.”
“You’ve biked cross country?” Wolfwood echoed, somewhat impressed. “That’s a long way. And no, I guess I don’t mind.” If he got asked a question he didn’t like, he could just refuse it. No harm done.
“I started in Puerto Rico. And I did the same elsewhere. Really, I’ve been around all over the place.” She smiled and turned her camera on. “So how often do you come into gun shops? Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“This is the first one I’ve come into since I got back from Afghanistan. I used to be in the army, and I got used to having a gun around.” Wolfwood answered. “I’m looking for a handgun like my old M9 - that’s the standard pistol they give U.S. soldiers.”
Alice smiled at him, keeping her head very still. “Do they sell M9s or are there special kinds for civilians? I’ve always found it rather fascinating how easy it is to get a weapon in this country.”
“They sell similar models, or old models.” At least her questions were intelligent. “They don’t sell the exact same model used by the army currently, no. You’ll see some of them because frankly, a lot of soldiers don’t give their weapons back when they’re discharged.” Wolfwood chuckled.
“Isn’t that illegal? Or aren’t there rules about that? Wouldn’t the army know about that, or is it true what they say about Army Intelligence.”
He didn’t dare laugh, but he was smiling, and he turned the rest into a cough. “It’s technically against the law, but it isn’t usually enforced. I did actually surrender my weapons, and no, I’m not just saying that. It’s why I’m here trying to find a new one.” Wolfwood grinned. “And let’s say it’s at least partly true what they say about Army Intelligence.”
She grinned at him. He was really kind of cute. “How long were you in the army? Meet interesting people?”
“I was in the army for twenty years, three months and seventeen days, and honestly, most of it was pretty okay.” Wolfwood smiled. “Joined up at eighteen, just out of high school. Was just discharged officially about three months ago, at age thirty-eight. Got my degree, made lieutenant, got a nice pension. Only got shot three times in twenty years, which has to be some kind of record.”
That wasn’t the first time someone had quoted it down to the day, so she only batted her eyelashes a little bit. “All of that in the line of combat? Lets just say line of combat to avoid anything embarrassing?” She grinned at him. “Do your scars get you any birds?” Pause. “Or blokes, if that’s your thing.”
“All three times I got shot were in the line of duty. A few other times I was injured in other ways, weren’t.” Wolfwood chuckled. “And honestly, I haven’t tried too much to pick up women since I’ve been back. Just for the record, I had some gay guys in my platoon - everyone knew - and no one cared.”
“I’ve heard that one a lot, actually, on both sides of the pond.” It was all silly to Alice, but then she was the kind of girl willing to be open to literally anything. “And that’s a pity, that you haven’t tried. Not much luck, I suppose?”
“I’ve been trying to get settled,” Wolfwood answered. “I enjoy the company of women, but I mean, I had to make sure my apartment - flat to you, I guess - has furniture before I bring anyone home.” He chuckled. “Soldiers wind up in bachelor pads even if they do have lady friends.” Which got him thinking about Belladonna, which bugged him. He did his best to ignore it.
“As long as you have a flat surface I don’t see the problem,” she said, winking. “I’m recently in the county myself. I only came in a few weeks ago but I plan on staying for awhile, for more long term reasons.”
If he hadn’t been in the army for twenty years, Wolfwood might damn near have blushed. As it was, he just smirked a little. “I lived here for a while before I shipped out, and I didn’t want to go home - I’m from San Diego, down the coast. This place is definitely never boring.”
“What was San Diego like?” Her smile was bright and genuine. “Or would you prefer to talk more about yourself. I like to listen.”
“San Diego’s very nice, actually. It’s just ... I don’t know. It’s sun, and sand, and a lot of Navy guys - it’s a big naval base. But that’s about all it is. Does that make sense?” Wolfwood hoped he was making sense.
“Don’t they have a zoo?” She asked almost innocently.
“Yes. That tends to be more for tourists, but it’s a big hit.” Wolfwood chuckled. “Excuse me a second.” Something over her shoulder had caught his eye. He reached up and retrieved a model of a gun that looked very similar to his old one. “Aha.” It was the M9 commercial, which was basically the same as his old gun with slightly less firepower.
“Will that meet your satisfaction?” She asked. She’d tilt her head but she needed the camera to be steady. “How does the licensing and background checks work?”
“In California, it’s a little different than in some other states. For handguns, you have to go through a licensed firearm dealer, and they will conduct a background check. After about ten days, they will send you your purchase, or they’ll give you your money back.” Wolfwood explained. “You also have to have a handgun safety certificate, but I got one when I was last on leave, and they’re valid for five years.”
She quirked her eyebrows. “Interesting. Do you have to be a citizen? What sort of things would disqualify you?”
“Mental illness.” Wolfwood ticked off. “Commission of a felony. Drug addiction. You don’t have to be a citizen, but you do have to have proof of residency, ID - a driver’s license, all that stuff. Legal immigrants can own guns, but someone can’t just come over on a holiday and pick one up.”
“That seems smart.” She made no comment either way about her opinions on guns. That wasn’t her place, not here anyway. She liked to observe - she had her personal blog for everything else.
“It’d be smarter if it was enforced more,” Wolfwood said frankly. “They don’t check clearly enough, or exhaustively enough. I mean, I’m ex-Army, so they can get my records quickly, but any civilian, if they can’t find ‘em, they more often than not just say whatever.”
“I’ve no interest or I’d see how easy it would be for me. But maybe that might be an interesting exercise.” Maybe for another time. “I don’t particularly like guns but it’s not really my right to say, as long as you’re not hurting anyone.”
“You’re perfectly entitled to think that way, miss. I’ve just been around guns my entire life. I don’t feel right without one around to practice with. But I’m not a zealot; I’m not one of those people. To each their own.” Wolfwood smiled.
“Wish more people thought that way! Other than chatting with blokes like you my only other experiences with guns have been the ones I’ve seen abroad.”
“People abroad have totally different thoughts about guns. Honestly, like, the Brits have the right idea about them.” Wolfwood shrugged. “Just, my opinion would be very different if I wasn’t in the Army.”
“That’s right, we do,” She said, grinning at him. “My countrymen might be a little messed up in a lot of ways, but we do get a few things right!”
“I liked you guys, honestly. I met a couple Brits on base.” He figured he should probably tell her his name. “I’m Nicholas Wolfwood, by the way.”
“Alice Kingsleigh,” She said, thinking he’s probably not heard of her, and that was completely okay. “It’s a very British name, that’s okay.”
“That’s super British.” Wolfwood chuckled. “Everyone calls me Wolfwood. Do people stick with Alice for you?”
“Yes. Kingsleigh was my father.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s old and stuffy and I’m not too fond of it, to be completely honest but it’s all over the family business.”
“What’s the family business? My dad was a mechanic; we don’t have a service tradition.” Wolfwood was curious.
“Media. We own quite a few newspapers and television stations in England and Europe,” she replied. “My blogging is part of an effort to drag them kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.” She grinned at him. “It’s better than sitting around in a stuffy office.”
“I bet it would be.” Wolfwood smiled. “Do you have a card or something? I might like to check it out.”
“I do!” She dug around in her pocket and pulled one out. On the front was her name, email and website, and on the back was the general contact information for the family company. It had one of those big media company type logos.
“Thanks.” Wolfwood took it, looking at the type. “I don’t have any cards or anything, but if you need to get in touch with me, I can be reached on that valar network.” He might call her. She was rather pretty.
“Maybe I shall. I leave you to your purchase and background check.” She wriggled her fingers at him, then turned her camera off and bounced out of the shop.