Who: Bobby & Booth When: Hunter Boot Camp day 1, group 6. After shooting, before dinner. What: A conversation Warnings: Probably none, will update if necessary
Bobby had easily fallen into a routine with the camps already, the workshop was set up with surplus cots and footlockers for any belongings people brought with them, and with space heaters now that it was getting colder. As long as the door stayed closed, it stayed plenty warm, and nobody would have to worry about frostbite or even being too cold. Mess was usually set up on a folding church table just off the back porch.
The first day was the easiest, a tour of the grounds and the ward lines to make sure nobody got lost in the dark, and then minimal training, mostly just to assess what people were good at and where they needed more work. The easiest way to do it, he'd found, was to turn them loose at the shooting range and then work from there. This group wasn't terrible, in fact, most of them were pretty good.
It was after he'd called a recess for dinner that he called one of the trainees out, "Booth." It wasn't really a snap and it wasn't really an order, it was just Bobby's usual gruff demeanor, scratching his brow under the brim of his hat, waiting for the man's approach before he asked: "What the hell certification do you have? Because that definitely wasn't just a hobbyist's skill out on the range."