(2018-10-08) Sale of Firearms
Isaac sells Jo a gun!

Double Actions Guns and Ammunitions Calaveras
Sat Oct 06, 2018 — Sat Oct 06 20:31:04 2018

Double Actions Guns and Ammunitions is a little shop downtown, located off of a main street. It's long and narrow, with a counter running down the length of it. You find the usual sorts of guns on display in a place that sells guns mostly to hunters. Behind the counter and locked up tight are more specialty items, from models that are only used out on the range to antiques. There's a certain smell of smoke that seems to linger in the air. There's a back door that presumably leads to another room. Next to the door? The keypad for a very expensive alarm system.

There's a narrow staircase that leads upstairs from the stockroom below marked Private.

Is smoking allowed inside of the shops of Calaveras? It might not be. It's /probably/ not. Health codes, fire codes… those sort of things tend to discourage that kind of activity these days in a health conscious world. Which doesn't seem to stop Isaac from sitting behind the counter in his own business and smoking away like a chimney. The place is empty right now, but that's probably because it's later in the day, closing in on dinner. Not exactly high time for customers to be pouring in. He has his feet up on the glass, flipping through a magazine and just passing time until he can flip the 'closed' sign over the door.

Of course, that means it's time that Jo has to be doing things other than working in her business, not far away. She's taken the time to clean up after working on a filthy beast of a vehicle, so red hair is still a little damp where it hangs loose over the well loved black leather jacket that's open over the simple black v-neck. Snug jeans and boots she doesn't wear in the garage finish her off, and there's a hint of makeup despite the fact she was going to look at guns, not out to a bar.

She'll nod as she strolls up to the counter, not at all uneasy being in a gun and ammo store. "Hey. I'm looking to get a Nine mill. I'm pretty interested in a Ruger LC9 if you've got one to look at, but I've got other ideas, too."

A customer, now? Isaac hears the bell ring over the door and he slowly cranes his head to look at the clock, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He looks mildly surprised but not enough to jump out of his seat. Big old booted feet are removed from the counter and he begins to untangle the rest of his limbs from the chair. Hand guns and the like are kept inside the counter case. "Sure, I've got that." He waves her along to follow him, his pace a languid and unhurried. The keys are on his belt and he unhooks them to get the LC9 out. Carry the Glock 19, compact." It's here that he stops talking to give Jo a quick look over. "Or there's the CZ 75B."

Jo will walk along with him, her stride easy and comfortable. "I've got a classic Glock, just wanted something a little smaller, ride a little easier in concealment." Green eyes will lift to Isaac, sharp and studying his face momentarily. "My other consideration was the Sig Sauer P938, just off some recommendations and research." She will wait for the LC9 to be set out, before she will pick up the gun and handle it with the ease of someone who knows how to handle firearms. Her hand will curl around the grip, and despite knowing it is unloaded when she moves to lift it to feel the way it will weight and pull along her arm, it is not pointed at Isaac."

Isaac looks like the sort of person who isn't easily impressed or if he is, it's carefully concealed under an ever present stoic expression. As she explains what she wants, he's pulling out the merchandise for her to get the feel of it. It's probably silently appreciated that the gun isn't pointed at him and he presses his hands onto the counter, watching her handle the weapons. "Sure. I can pull that for you when you're done there." There's a lift of his chin to what's out currently. "What's your deal? Police? Military? Personal security?" There's a big difference between a woman coming in to buy a gun for her purse and someone with actual experience.

She will set the LC9 down with a tiny pat of fingers along the grip. "It's nice, but you never just buy the first one you try. At least not with guns." Those green eyes will lock onto him again, before she will pull out her wallet and produce her license and her conceal and carry permit. "Ex-military. I own the garage down the way, and there's expensive tools. Security systems are nice, but it takes the cops a while to respond."

"Lot of activity lately too," Isaac comments when she says that bit about the cops. "Nothing wrong with being prepared." He puts what's out away and moves a few feet over, reaching underneath to draw out the Sig Sauer P938. Then he pulls out another, "Smith and Wesson 9MM M&P Shield. See how that feels too, for science." He leans back against the cabinet, crossing his arms over his chest. "Which branch?"

"Yep. I was shot at in the local grocery store, and realized I probably should have another back up. I stopped carrying one front holster because I didn't have anything smaller." There's a snort of a laugh at trying for science. "Army, for too long." Though she doesn't even look 30 so…

"I saw that in the paper. A bunch of kids right, from the next town over? I thought New York was bad, shit. Calaveras is going to give it a run for its money soon." Isaac drawls, the deep rumble of his voice almost amused at the idea of the little Colorado town becoming utterly crime ridden. "Just a grunt or do anything in particular?" It sounds like he's expecting 'in particular' to be more of the answer than grunt, given that mention of staying in for too long.

Jo will move on, to picking up the Sig. She's handling it like the LC9, testing it out for herself, for the feel of it, how comfortable it would be. "Mechanic. Helos were my speciality, but I worked on anything with an engine, really. Bagram is hell on engines."

"So much sand there and heat," Isaac says in a dismal, knowing, tone, closing his eyes briefly. The cigarette was abandoned awhile ago, an unconscious move while he began opening and closing cases. It's something that he goes back to now, almost reflexive. There's a frown and he stares down the counter to the ashtray, making a hmpft noise. It's only a few strides of his long legs to return to it, sliding the whole thing down the glass toward Jo. The ash is tapped off and he resumes his bad habit.

There's a sidelong look at Isaac. "You've been." She'll say quietly, as she sets the Sig Down, before she's eyeballing the S&W. She spins it with a finger along the top of the case, a pause before she picks it up.

"Mmhm. For too long," he'll tell her as he puts the cig to his lips and takes a deep drag, blowing smoke up to the ceiling. There's not point in rushing a customer that's checking out the merchandise and he seems to be the sort to let that person take their time.

It would likely also be unwise to rush a fellow local business owner, because that could cause trouble. She'll handle the Smith and Wesson another moment, before she sets it down. "Let's go with the LC9 for now. I think that will fit best in the front draw I currently have."

"Sure thing." Isaac begins putting things away back into the case, "Gotta check your drivers license and firearms license and put in the request for a background check. Things have been quiet lately." He pauses and then adds, "Well, in the rest of the state. It shouldn't take too long for the CBI to shoot it back. Within the week probably. I'll take your name, phone number. You put down some money. I call you when we're good to go." There's the slow glimmer of a smile, "Or you could just keep coming back everyday going 'is it ready yet', like some of my other customers. But you don't look like that sort of person."

Jo taps where she's left her license and paperwork. "If it's all the same with you, I'd prefer to pay it all off now. Cash works, I assume?" She will lift her eyebrows at him, before she will place a business card for "Grey's Garage" on the counter, with her name and two numbers on it. "I'll need three boxes to go with it, too."

"I take cash or credit," Isaac replies, sweeping up the various bits of paperwork along with the business card before going to the computer to punch it all through. He squints now and again at the lines on the screen before finishing it up. "Sure. You want to take that with you now or pick it up when your check comes through?"

"I'll wait and bring it all home at once." She's thumbing bills out of her wallet, a beaten old black leather thing. She's certainly not the lady coming in looking for a pea shooter for a purse.

"You got it," Isaac tap, tap, taps away over there. The bill shows up on the customer's side of the register, money is exchanged and then there's the sound of a printer cuing up somewhere. He reaches underneath for it and yanks two pieces of paper out. "This is your receipt, hold onto it. Bring it back in when it's time to pick up. I keep a copy, just in case," his copy gets a wave before it's slipped into a folder that goes onto the shelf. "Thanks for your business, Ms. Greyson."

Jo tucks the receipt into her wallet, before she'll pick up her license and all that. "Thanks for being in Business, Mr. …?" There's a tiny lift of brows and a tilt of her head.

Isaac has resummed having the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, which has very little left to it at this point. The keys from earlier are being reclipped to his belt and he glances up, "Abernathy. Isaac Abernathy."

"A pleasure, Mr. Abernathy. Have a good rest of your night." There's a toss of a wave, before the redhead heads out with as little fanfare as she came in.

"Sure thing. You too." A free hand is lifted to wave her on out before he resumes reading his magazine. Difficult life.

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