<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">Wow, Dante really knew his stuff. Yinnie listened and almost got lost in the melodic tone of his vocal inflections. His eyes were nice too. Make no mistake, the girl was comprehending and absorbing every piece of information coming from the training supervisor. He did look military, and not Hollywood military. Like he'd actually been in the tranches of nefarious situations, things most people would shy away from even in perspective imagination. He assumed respect in his aura &amp; posture. It was something Yinnie definitely got behind. In all her years she'd frequently dealt with the most bravado and cocky colleagues who thought they were either superior or elite in prowess... and conversely as many times she's seen said types fall figuratively and literally into ruin. When he sent a look to Yinnie, the rest of the crew all batched eyes on her as she followed Dante over to the table, in front of the handgun. She picked it up, feeling the depth of its weight in her hands. She firmly held the handle and supplanted her other hand under her grip for more support, making sure her thumb area wasn't susceptible to the snap of the gun's hammer or kickback. She'd seen some nasty injuries where the hammer had split the flesh because they were holding grip too high. She aimed out into the beauteous mountains, not really feeling the surge of power firearms were rumored to make one feel. <br/>
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She split her feet shoulder width apart, getting a good stance as she felt reluctance to shoot without Dante's approval. The crisp breeze from the morning winds tugged her hair to and fro mildly, as her eyes were sharp and focused on the weapon as if it were very much full of life-altering lead. She takes a deep breath. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ffcc">"Hey, this isn't that bad.... reminds me of the <i>one</i> time I went to a shooting range with my sister and cousins. So, what's next?"  </span></span>