He nodded as he counted out rounds, digging out another pair of boxes to begin sorting them appropriately by type and caliber. "Teaching you how to shoot and drive will be simple enough. Guns are easy enough in concept, you just point it at what you want to kill and pull the trigger. There's some finesse to doing it right but you'll pick that up easily. The hard part is realizing what a bullet does to a living target." He paused and inspected a round, frowning as he turned it in his fingers.<br/><br/>"If I had it my way, I'd discard all of these weapons. Guns are a mistake that the old world made, and we have a chance to undo it. If we weren't dealing with a pack of rogue Striders, men with the best gear the old world has to offer, I wouldn't think twice about destroying this entire armory." He threw the round into its appropriate box and sighed. "But we don't have a choice, do we? Not right now." He looked up as a loud buzzer alarm rang throughout the complex, then glanced at her and offered half a smile. "That's another Strider coming in. Come on, best you meet them with me at your side."<br/><br/>He led the way back up the ramp to the entryway, the sound of a Growler coming to rest echoing down the enclosed hallways. In the entryway they came face to face with a rather slight woman, her face round and young. She looked like she could be half their age, but the hardness in her eyes banished any doubt as to her ability. Her clothes were covered in small chainmail patches, covering her heart, her stomach, her shoulders, groin, knees--anywhere particular susceptible to physical attack. A hatchet hung from her belt, the same as Carson's, and she carried a similar firearm on her hip holster. Rather than a rifle she had a pair of smaller guns resting on her back, designed to be carried and fired simultaneously in both hands. Flint-like grey-blue eyes glared out from under a windswept mess of straw-blonde hair. She put her hands on her hips and glared wordlessly, first at her, then at Carson.<br/><br/>Carson sighed. "Sunny. Welcome back. This is Malia."<br/><br/>"I didn't know we could bring fuckbuddies to the Bunker."<br/><br/>"That's not--it isn't the Bunker, okay, we all voted on Central--and she isn't a fuckbuddy, don't be like that."<br/><br/>"I fail to understand why else you'd let an outsider know where our 'secret base of operations' is otherwise, Cars. She's not a Strider, is she? You don't need to tell me, she doesn't look like it. She's too green to be one of us." She scowled more deeply at him. "I expect there's a sound reason for this?"<br/><br/>"Very much so, yes. You know I wouldn't endanger everyone by bringing just any outsider here. There's a situation--"<br/><br/>"Save it. Natya and Ketto are almost back, I could have sworn I heard their Growlers. I'm going to go take a shower." She brushed past them and glanced back, her face screwed up. "You should too, you both smell like... fuck, exhaust and dirty poor people, eugh."<br/><br/>Carson pressed his lips together and looked over at Malia. "That's Sunny. We call her that because she's so cheerful, and warm, and loving." His tone couldn't have been more sarcastic if he tried.