Plans of mice and men...

As it turns out, Gizzy isn't as good with aiming as one would like. Seems she was used to aiming with her backpack, not her own hands. Without a computer to help her, Gizzy's aim was a bit...off.

It felt...it was sort of like that sensation you get...people call it the feeling that someone is walking over your grave in the future or something. A sudden chill that runs up your spine. Only it wasn't a chill. It was more like...warmth. And it didn't just run through my spine. It spread down my legs, arms, even up my neck. This could be...unpleasant. Or so pleasant that it was unpleasant.

"Gizzy...remind me to get you marksmanship lessons before I let you use that gun again," I said tensely, trying not to move. Even the sensation of my mouth and tongue felt pleasant. Gizzy blushed profusely, stammering apologies. Wykkd had her hand over her mouth in dismay. Mam' just looked very confused.

And that's when she decided to touch me. "Are you okay, John?" she said in what sounded like slow motion to me as her hand came closer. God, please don't let the gun be on its second setting...