She watched him for a moment, her anger at him vanishing as she watched with fascination as he took a shot. The sharp crack of the rifle was followed almost instantly by the loud ring of metal from a struck target, the steel plate recoiling slightly from the impact and now sporting a small but fresh hole. He lowered the rifle a bit and pulled sharply on the metal handle, like a crossbow notch, expelling the spent a metallic casing, before he pushed the handle back to its initial place, which Gilda knew automatically loaded the next bullet. Immediately, he raised the rifle back on a new target and pulled the trigger. He took a shot. Clang. He pulled back the handle and pushed it back again. Another shot. Clang. And he did it again. Clang. 