shipers in this war and she's shaping up to be one of the best."
et
"I understand, sir," Jackson says, nodding precisely. "What I have in mind won't take away from her sniping practice at all. Just..." he purses his mouth in thought for a moment, "if we could have access to some of the weapons from the Games? The paintball guns? A shorter-range rifle, I think he says, glancing at the bag slung over my back that holds my precious sniper rifle, "could work."
The Captain sighs and shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “If we weren't training you fornoveldrama
command, McClintock," he says, "this could be considered insubordination. But we are
and frankly, it's a good idea. He sighs, looking back up and between us. "If it interferes at all with her sniping, it ends. But until then," he shrugs, "you can have access to the supplies you need."
My eyebrows raise as the Captain freely gives Jackson the code to the gun cage where the supplies for the Games are kept, telling him to keep strict records of those he uses and to ensure that everything is returned at the end of practice sessions.
"I'm proud of you, Clark," the Captain says after Jackson thanks him for his trust. He comes forward a step or two and claps a hand on my shoulder. “You did fine shooting yesterday at the Games. I'll look forward to seeing your further progression."”