[ Which doesn't fully explain her reaction. A gun is a useful thing at the end of the day, a tool she's deeply familiar with. The box sits in her lap, and her palm lays on top of the box, like it might jump open if she let it.
For a long moment, she considers if she can leave it there. If Max might excuse her reaction and pretend like it hasn't happened. She glances over at him, before she sighs, resigned back at the box. Easier to face this than let it sit.
She pops the lid back open and shows him. The Apache Revolver is folded in the box, the metal is tarnished, the barrel is mottled with old grease, and the knucklebuster is worn down, all characteristics of a weapon that lived in the wastes. She loops her fingers through it, holding in her palm deftly. It feels the same even now. ]
Old one. Belonged to someone else before me. Thought it was gone. That's all.
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[ Which doesn't fully explain her reaction. A gun is a useful thing at the end of the day, a tool she's deeply familiar with. The box sits in her lap, and her palm lays on top of the box, like it might jump open if she let it.
For a long moment, she considers if she can leave it there. If Max might excuse her reaction and pretend like it hasn't happened. She glances over at him, before she sighs, resigned back at the box. Easier to face this than let it sit.
She pops the lid back open and shows him. The Apache Revolver is folded in the box, the metal is tarnished, the barrel is mottled with old grease, and the knucklebuster is worn down, all characteristics of a weapon that lived in the wastes. She loops her fingers through it, holding in her palm deftly. It feels the same even now. ]
Old one. Belonged to someone else before me. Thought it was gone. That's all.