[Moth]

Prism had lucked out - managing to nab a couple extra commissions from Madame Bernard had left her with more in her bank account that usual, and she'd had some spending money left over after calculating her food budget, school necessities, and monthly ammunition orders. It was a rare luxury, and she'd been able to afford herself a couple of extra clips of bullets. Not a lot, but enough she'd be able to treat herself to a Saturday afternoon on the school's shooting range after-hours without major guilt, and enjoy some non-fatal practice with quick-moving targets. Practically an ideal weekend to the hummingbird faunus.

Thankfully, the range was empty this time of day - most other students had better things to do with their precious time off. Prism's dressed casually, a black backless top with a lace trimming and tie at the neck, white short-shorts, and a pair of knee-high boots with the usual 3 inch heels. Her wings are concealed safely under her signature jean jacket, and the amber goggles are still mounted on her forehead - but other than than the metallic box at the base of her spine, she's a perfectly normal teenage girl. The backpack full of snacks is plopped down at the edge of one station, a switch flipped to fire up the targets, Hawk's Eye is unfolded - and she's up and gone, bracing herself against the rifle's familiar recoil as nearly every shot lands home.

[Walter]

Reginald was salty.

He had been salty for months now, but he had recntly found out that his own father had apparently hired a group of students for some mission and hadn't even told him. No message on his scroll, no notice from Silica, nothing. This made this particular human skidmark upset, to the point where he had avoided Silica and her training regime for a week now. She had insisted on practicing his close-range capabilities all this time - something he truly detested.

He preferred fighting from a distance. Destroying his opponents before they ever had the chance to come close to him. Solace was a wonderful weapon for this - and flashy to boot. He carried it with pride as he entered the shooting range, along with a puch full of ammo, ready to show off his ability to the other students in an environment most fit- Aaaand it was almost completely empty. Great.

There was a single other person, a girl he found to be a bit plain. She was short, insignificant, tomboyish and... Somewhat familiar? Reginald briefly squinted at her, trying to figure out where he had seen her before, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Letting out a dissatisfied 'Hmph', the pompous cock strides over to one of the shooting lanes. He took off his pouch and began the process of loading each individual round into his rifle. As he did so, he watched the girl shoot. Psh. Sure, it's impressive for a beginner, like most first years. Nothing to write home about, he thought.

What a tosser.

[Moth]

Prism glances over as someone else enters the shooting range, giving the new guy a once-over as he starts loading up his gun. Purple hair, gold rifle, a cape - gold rifle?

Prism's vision fixates on the weapon, turning from her shooting to give it a better look-over. Wooden body, bayonet built into the side, tricked out beyond belief. She's fairly sure the decorations on that rifle could pay her tuition. She's also fairly sure she needs to hold it, like, immediately. Throwing Hawk's Eye over her shoulder with the strap, Prism walks over to the guy, offering him a polite grin. "Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to ask - would it be okay if I got a closer look at that gun of yours? She's honestly absolutely beautiful, and you don't see many models like her around anymore, so I'm guessing she's a family heirloom? Great shape if she is an antique, though."

[Walter]

Reginald saw the girl approaching him and purposefully turned his gaze away, as if he had been intently staring at the targets this entire time. He turned to look at her only when she spoke up. The shitsneeze then blinked, a bit surprised. It was odd to have his gun complimented like this, but it did please him. Praise is always praise, no matter what it's aimed at.

"Why, yes, Solace is a proud Royale family heirloom. You may take a look at it so long as you don't dirty it," Reginald said, his voice condescending, every word leaving his mouth sounding like it had been heavily greased up before being spat out. It was almost impressive how prickish he had managed to sound with such a simple exchange.

[Moth]

Taking the gun, Prism holds it carefully, running her hands over the antique. Great craftmanship, better upkeep... she'd need to get the name of the maker of the gun, see if he was still kicking around. She smirked slightly as she observed the gold embellishes - that probably adds a lot of unnecessary weight. Lifting it up to her shoulder, she peers down the scope - Hawk's Eye probably has a bit longer of a range, but that's about it. "I mean I don't plan on it, treat your instruments well and they'll treat y - hold on, Royale?"

Prism turns back to the boy and cocks her head slightly, giving a harsh look over. Fancy clothing, purple hair, weirdly familiar jawline... Dear god, she should've figured this out when he came in. "...you're Reginald Royale right? Son of Marvin Royale? Believe it or not, I've met your father."

[Walter]

Reggie squinted at the girl. "Yes, I am. And he has met many people, many important people at that. Though you do seem somewhat familiar," Reginald said, rubbing his chin, his other hand resting on his hip. "I do believe we've met at some point in the past. What is your name?" he asked, trying to place in his memory where he might have seen her.

He cared less about who this girl was than of her relation to his father - though if it turned out she was of some importance in the world, well. He could certainly use some more allies in this school. For some reason, not many people wanted to be friends with this sleazy turdball.

[Moth]

After deducing his identity, Prism's attention turns from the boy in front of her back to the gun. Tugging on a golden lever on the side, she manages to get it to retract back to it's regular rifle form - before returning it to it's previous form. "Huh, dual-fuction; I like it. Hawk's Eye is only long-distance, though it does have a melee option, which is fairly useful." She seems to be lost in the gun, at least until he asks a question.

"Oh, sorry! I'm Prism Skylark, the latest recipient of the Royale Scholarship. I had to interview with your father a couple of times during the selection process - he's proven to be quite a kind man. I don't remember being introduced to you, though he did mention in passing he'd have a son attending Beacon the same year I'd enrolled for, so you must've saw me in passing then?"

[Walter]

Ah. The Royale Scholarship. His father's noble attempt at giving the lower classes a chance at being useful. Reginald could hardly say he was a fan of it - what did these kids even do to deserve it?

"Mm. Yes, possibly. My father is... Very generous." Reggie said, though it seemed that he had forced the last part out, clenching his eyes shut as he did. He then extended his palm for Solace, not wanting the girl to fiddle with it much longer. He didn't trust her.

"Skylark... Hmph. Can't say I've heard that family name. Is your family relevant at all?" The boy asked. The young pisswaffle doubted it, of course - no one from a respectable family would choose to come to such a school on someone else's expense. Even he himself spent no more of his father's money than was necessary, of course - setting aside the fact that his spending was monitored by Silica and his father.

[Moth]

Prism's polite smile gets particularly tense as he mentions her family. Relevent? At all? Okay, kiddie gloves are off. The faunus doesn' hand Solace back right away, but instead only holds it in one hand, effortlessly starting to spin it without looking. "Listen, Reggie, since you obviously didn't inherit the better natures of your father, let me make something clear. When it comes down to it, family relevancy has absolutely nothing to do with it! So, I'm going to politely request you apologize, because I can assure you I've done more than enough to earn my position."

He has one chance to redeem himself. One. You're going to appeal to his better nature and hope he's a decent human being, you're not going to automatically want to hit him in the groin. You're not going to. You're totally not going to.

...noticeably, a light breeze has started to pick up through the shooting range, despite the fact it's indoors.

[Walter]

Reginald doesn't even register the change of tone in the girl's voice. He does notice the slight breeze, having to glance back as he assumes someone had wandered in and left the door open. Nada.

He turns back to look at Prism, holding his head high and peering down at her the way one looks at a misbehaving dog. "Hmph. I doubt it. Now hand me back my rifle before you break it." He says, then briefly traces back the conversation in his mind. This girl was using his father's scholarship - she was likely in contact with Royale Senior. Which means he could use her to contact his father through an outlet other than Silica! He just had to get on her good side!

"And, apologies if I struck a nerve or some such."

Nailed it, fuckbag.

[Moth]

The condescending looks, the fact she implies she doesn't deserve to be wear she is. The insult to the Skylark name. In the end, it's the tone of his apology that makes her break. Prism's polite smile breaks into a sadistic smirk, and with a sudden gust of wind that's enough to make his cape billow, the rifle's momentum from spinning is brought into a two-handed hold, which Prism promptly drives directly into Reggie's groin. "Of cooourse you're sorry, how could I doubt the sincerity of the literal embodiment of a douchebag's tone?"

The girl pulls the rifle back, offering him another "polite" smile, waiting for the damage to the Royale family jewels to set in.

[Walter]

There is certainly something to be said about getting hit in the nuts.

It's a feeling unlike any other. It hurts, but not in the way it hurts to be cut or shot, not the way it hurts to bleed or break a bone. The sensation can be described as the air getting knocked out from your lungs but the air is forced out from your crotch rather than your chest. Like how a blow-up matress would feel when it gets stomped on to be deflated.

And no matter how many times you go through it, you never get used to it. Reginald would know.

Reggie couldn't even let out a sound. Granted, there wasn't a sound that could express how he felt, anyway. Maybe a very, very loud 'oof'. The stuck-up asswipe bent forward, cupping his hands around the injured location. As he fell to his knees, he was finally able to let out something.

"B-bitch-ch..."

[Moth]

A high-heeled boot comes up to meet his shoulder as he cusses her out, and with a surprisingly strong push the young man’s knocked back to be sent sprawling on his rear. As he lays flat, Prism takes the opportunity to plop herself down on his chest; sitting primly before crossing his legs. Her jacket is rugged off as she sits down, and with a fluff the massive pair of blue-green wings on her back is revealed, and she continues to smirk down at him. ”I’m not sure bitch is accurate now, I am a bird after all.”

[EdgeyReyes]

"You'd think someone from a rich family would have basic manners, right Reginald?" A white-haired girl mocked as she made her way to the pompous prick, smiling as she patted him on the head with an almost sadistic smile.

"This position suite you quite well, right Prism?" Akel smiled at the shorter faunus before having a sudden realisation "Before you wonder why I know your name, I have hypersensitive hearing so I can hear just about everything depending on the sensitivity of my headset" the taller bat faunus gave a smile at the shorter girl and gave, this time much kinder and friendly then the one that Reggie received if he saw it or not.

[Walter]

"I-if... Cock is m-more accurate, s-so be it." Reginald spat out after he had somewhat recovered from his suffering. Still, he was not quite in shape to force the girl off yet. Akel patting him on the head... Well, that was pretty much the last straw for the sneezestain. More subconciously than anything, he activated his semblance, massive gusts of wind forming around his pressurized form. Prism would probably notice some difficulty keeping her balance, the wind currents entirely unpredictable as they are.

"I-I... Won't be humiliated by some worthless faunus!" he hissed out, even though he's in no shape to fight back. Not for a little while.