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"Oh, Fae-fae, you know I'd be honored."

Itztenoch hadn't been so eager to do something in what felt like weeks. Had gotten his a** up and out at the slightest beckon from Fae-Fae to do something more than lie low.

They had a new purpose, and yet? How he felt like he'd languished, in staying, in -- and this didn't feel like a mission anymore. Didn't feel cut and dry and clean - Yet Lyndin was so busy. Playing parlay between one realm in the next, keeping them well in house and home. It felt remiss to beg more of him, time, energy, anything.

To have their dearest Fae-Fae come along and drag him headlong out into 'doing'; he could've hugged her. He needed the distraction, he needed --- to shoot something, apparently! However little he cared for human sports, the idea of a game which related to the use of weapons, especially their firearms? How could he say no, when it piqued his interest so.

"Does this Duel have as many rules as their other events? The humans have so many endless games, sports, tourneys...." quirked an eyebrow as he rolled his shoulders and shifted into a better stance; scanned the not quite lightening horizon.

He was surprised how the humans played so recklessly with something so deadly; their entire species seemed to have a love of competing for a variety of reasons. Tenoch found he could appreciate that...competition for the sake of training, of building comradery. As many of their team events seemed to do. Amongst entire nations even.

The word 'Gunslingers' came to mind - an image Tenoch derived from early mornings - or would they be considered late nights? Things that fell in black and white on horseback, and were shown only some wee hours in-between infomercials and normal-shows. What he'd come to learn were loud shiny sales pitches designed purely to gain the attention of oxygen and sleep deprived minds. In order to encourage people to purchase goods at low prices. He'd found the idea fascinating, had nearly fallen prey to it himself..

Until he remembered that he didn't understand what a 1-800 text or call line was, and then he came to his senses and remembered his own funds could be better spent on --- ooh - any other damned thing, that wasn't ceramic horse figures and 'soft enough for a baby' sweaters. Even if he thought they all very well deserved the softest of things.

He watched Fae's data scroll though, was drawn into it enough that he nodded along; grinned sharply for the genius of it all.

"It's a wonderful idea -- a good test of aim and skill under pressure."

It was all new, this? This was new, and he liked it. Felt something like adrenaline buzz just beneath the surface, burble up like joy into his tone. This would be a thing he liked - a good opponent. Not a battlefield scattered with unclear rules and a variant of enemies. No, a clear game, with a clear aim and rules fine tuned by Fae-fae.

"A new signal for every round will keep things fresh -- spontaneous."

Already he eyed the grassy knoll, scanned the predawn turf of the hillside, as if considering the odd challenges Earth terrain presented. Clinging dew, sloped angles...how well his weapons unique features would mesh with the surroundings; even if it was only to stun.

Even if it was only for play.

"Affirmative." Fleeting grin for the sudden surprise of having to remember the feathered creatures calls.

It was very 'clever of her', he thought. To choose something so varied, for what constituted as birdsong could've been. Oh, so many things indeed. Any number of things heard and unheard alike. Especially when he considered the long mental list of whistles, twits and early morning caws that'd echoed just beyond the edges of the dome in the days before everything had come crashing down around them.

Tenoch habitually checked himself as he turned about face and paced away. Counted his steps, settled suddenly still fingers over the hilt of his sidearm. Let his meandering thoughts go soft until they were silent and settled like the patch of pre-dawn darkness that lay over them like a cozy little blanket.

Blocked out his breathing --- his pulse --- because the birds welcomed the dawn...because he had to hear.

A twittering rang in the sky. The blood all rushed to her limbs. Fae-Fae jumped around, whipped up her blaster and fired.

There was an, ah! as Itztenoch's blaster shot caught Fae-Fae squarely in the eye, and she spent the next moment flinching, and squinting, and clutching her free hand near her face.

Before the glaring streaks in her eyes had passed, however, she'd already burst into a fresh fit of giggles. She had lost the competition, but had certainly gained much from the exercise.

It was definitely one worth repeating.