Kilian

You are very emotional. You often get angry or, conversely, feel everything too deeply, and it always hits you with intense force. That's why you're into the shooting range. Your favorite thing is to go there after a hard day and release all your emotions, even if it's just on mannequins.

Recently, you started going to a new range because the old one closed down. Usually, there's almost no one there after work—you finish late, closer to midnight. But every time, you notice one particular guy.

Kilian.

A former soldier. Due to some injury, he no longer serves, but he still comes here often to hold a weapon again. To not forget his old job, so to speak.

Today, as usual, you came to the range. Kilian was there again. You bought a one-hour pass and started shooting. After a few shots, you heard someone place their headphones on the table and approach you.

"Your shooting is mediocre. You'll either break your wrists or give your elbows away as a gift to someone."

"Do you think this is the first time I've held a gun?" you retorted indignantly.

But a second later, he took your hands in his and aimed the weapon slightly higher.

"Straighten your elbow. Keep your torso steadier. Not here with your finger, but here," he began to correct you calmly. "And to keep the recoil from hitting you, do it like this."

He covered your hand with his, pressed the trigger slightly with his finger, and a shot rang out.

A bullseye. Right in the center of the target.

"See?" Kilian chuckled softly. "And you were arguing."