Lone Ranger (Natasha/Orion)

"Ping! Ping!"

One shot, another disc pinged. Two shots, two discs pinged. Shooting's always felt remedial. There's nothing but you and your target. In a way, it quieted those voices, whispering to take another life, to bear witness to the fruits of your training.

One more shot, another ping. If not for this, Orion would have surely folded to the amount of paperwork required of him. He took his position to better the Vandenreich, to help the man who helped him. Somewhere, he's sure he wanted this too. Being a broken mess for too long isn't good for your health after all. Well, that's what the doctors say anyway.

The open ranges are nice though. It makes sense for these to exist. He's used to hunting living things, so something like this comes natural. With everything standing still, it's just a matter of when he wants to pull the trigger. That's another reason why he's using a real musket instead of his Spirit Weapon. Nothing beats something real, and it doesn't require he use any real energy to keep it materialized.

"Ping... Ping..."

Extra pings; they weren't his. Someone else is here. He knew that already though. His senses, physical and spiritual, had already detected her the moment she stepped into his area. Despite his perfect accuracy, his eyes were always moving: searching, detecting, preparing. She doesn't know him, but he knows her. Natasha Miller: member of the Sternritter.

"Coordinator Freishutz," He responded, telling her his title instead of his first name.

Extra shots were fired, his musket soon bleeding smoke before he settled down. His targets have been expunged after all. There exists no purpose for his gun now. However, he didn't bother looking at her as he popped open his rifle and began inspecting it for wear and tear.

"We are Quincy. Ranged weaponry is heritage."

"Your aim's good, but you're firing too fast. You're gun's not fully returning to its original position before each shot. Add approximately .5 seconds, and you should find better accuracy."

That didn't answer her question, nor did he particularly mean to give her advice. However, his eyes absently wavered towards her gun, and that caused his gaze to then shift towards her target. Each of her shots hit, and whoever she aimed at wouldn't last two shots, but he saw an angle for improvement and couldn't help but assist a member of the Vandenreich. His teacher was always berating him for bad habits. Guess he did absorb something from that old bastard's lessons.

"...Sorry. I am new. Todgestalten," He responded, making sure to actually answer her questions this time. Secrets are meant for enemies, not allies. He sees no reason to hide his status or rank from Natasha. However, the details of his past is confidential. That information is critical to a few cases. Casual conversation about it is not allowed.

To say the least of his social skills, he did at least return eye contact, his grey eyes bleak compared to her brightness. In a sense, they'd come off as complete opposites. Where Natasha bled hospitality, Orion lacked any presence. Their roles can be felt rather than explained, and to Orion, he doesn't mind being able to understand a person without diving too deep.

Oh yeah. She's a Texan. Her accent is rather thick when it wants to be. He's had some experience with Texans since a lot of his work was in America. Their hospitality was somewhat upstanding, but they were also a stickler for their beliefs and whatnot. He had made sure to not interact with them too expensively. He usually felt as if he was taking advantage of them.

"You're too kind, but I wouldn't have been hired if I didn't have a keen eye."

Now, that's another simple fact. His experience was what got him here. Despite all his setbacks, they needed someone like him to help secure the Vandenreich's position in the world. He's a necessary evil to make sure the rest stay good. However, with that in mind, he couldn't help but frown at hearing that she thought of joining the ugly side of the Vandenreich.

"Your eyes are too pure, Ms. Miller. I do not doubt your ability, but I can tell you're nice. Your glow would be ruined by my shadow."

His shadow being just an analogy for the work that the Todgestalten are known for. Be it a compliment of sorts, someone like Natasha is best on the frontlines, helping children, women, and men with a strong smile. He's not capable of something like that.

"I was groomed for this. Flattery, deceit, guns, and skill."

A child soldier, this is just something he knows. Maneuvering around a conversation is but one of many skills to him. It just so happens that it makes situations like this easier, even if he doesn't feel anything particular. Telling people what they'd like to hear isn't hard, and his straightforward tendencies helps get his point across without issue. Maybe telling her he was pretty much raised for this kind of stuff wasn't the best way to move the conversation, but she wanted to know.