Dusty laughed at the young man's suggestion.<br/><br/>"Won't take much," he decided, "but at least you hit da broad side of a car."<br/><br/>He removed a near empty pack of cigarettes and removed the last one. Lighting it, he hung the cigarette from his lips and tossed the scrunched Marlboro pack into the air. In the time it took for it so change its trajectory, coming back down to the earth, Dusty had drawn his own gun from under his belt and shot it out of the air one handed with his 1911 colt pistol all in one fluid motion. The crack was substantially louder than the smaller revolver. It wasn't his first choice for hunting weapons, but it was an easy contender for defense in a variety of situations.<br/><br/>He smiled at the young man, who was still holding the gun out towards him, pointed down as he'd been taught.<br/><br/>"You know where you gotta shoot a gata, right? Small spot right at da back a da head, bout da size of a quarta, and dey usually trashin and pissed as hell. You miss and you either ruin da meat or you jus' piss em off more." He slid his gun back into place, walked, and hung a sun-bleached no trespassing sign up against the window of the car door. Upping the challenge since the young man wanted to mouth off.<br/><br/>"Five more bullets in da chamber," Dusty reminded and he pulled the young man five paces back, so he was shooting from fifteen yards.