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Javert seemed to be organizing things in a section of the Sensoriums. He had been speaking with Chaucer for some time about organizing a work session on period weaponry (Speaking being the most general term for the rather strange state of communications between the two men, who still weren't precisely friends, but were more or less civil, which was about as close to friendly as Javert was capable of being), and was now putting that idea into motion. There were polearms, pistols, longbows, and other forms of less-than-modern weaponry. The tall policeman was sectioning off practice areas, seemingly for each form of combat.

He straightened and surveyed the work done, looking rather smug and almost pleased with himself. There was also a gleam in his eye that he tended to acquire whenever he was about to make someone else's life very, very difficult.

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She narrows her eyes at him. "Stupid." Rising to her full, decidedly unimpressive height, she jabs at him with a finger. "Never sneak up on me, okay? What if I'd had a gun in hand, huh? Or a monofilament whip? You'd be missing an arm at the very least!"

Honestly, she's more angry that he snuck up on her so easily. Mei-Xing's survived this long by trying to avoid that kind of thing happening.

He just raises an eyebrow, looking down at her from over a foot away. "How unfortunate that would be. I've no doubt I'm glad that didn't happen. Did you come here for a purpose, or only to look at pretty bows and attempt to assault me?"

It is possibly best to note, at this point, that Javert is a complete jackass.

Mei-Xing scowls up at him, then crosses her arms, puffing some of her hair out of her eyes. "I was hoping I'd get some advice on how to improve my swordsmanship, and maybe some instruction on axes and the like. But if all I'm going to get is some uppity Frenchman talking down to me because I'm an elf and I happen to admire bows, I might as well not waste my time." The last thing she needs is to be stuck in some fucking Tolkein stereotype be a fucking Frenchman.

She's choosing to ignore the bit where he got the drop on her now. Amazing how some people can edit their own memories.

"I'm not a Frenchman." Is his first, idle comment.

"As far as 'elves', as you're not apparently of the shoemaking sort I have no comment on the matter. Regardless, I cannot help you with swords. Best to ask him for that." And he gestures to Kang.

"You sound like one." She glowers.

She follows his gesture, laying eyes on Kang, and her face pales. "Uh." What the fuck is a drake doing on board? She takes a step back, bumping into the bows again and licks her lips. "...You sure you don't have anything to teach?"

"Regardless."

He follows her line of sight and looks slightly amused at her nervousness. He's had to overcome initial reactions to many of the crew-- his own team is made of what many would assume are demons and monsters, not to mention the dinosaur that spoke. Her aversion is perhaps more than the knee-jerk startled distrust and tension of himself, or the initial terror which struck M.Chaucer, but still most likely the product of her being newer to the strange goings on than they. He filed away her reaction for later-- for all he thought it amusing, it may be relevant should circumstances change and not all of them be, he supposed, 'fighting the good fight'.

"I am familiar with the pistols, rifles, and somewhat with hand to hand."

Mei-Xing edges to the a bit, putting Javert between herself and Kang carefully. Where there's drakes, there's dragons, and she doesn't even want a dragon to know where she is. To cover for herself, she puts the bow back where it was, and turns to size Javert up.

Pistols, she was already good with. Unless he meant something like they had in old pirate movies, those powder-loaded pistols. But rifles... She never carried a rifle around, though she knew the basics. She liked to sneak around, and carrying a rifle wasn't conductive to doing that. "I guess I could improve on my marksmanship."

"Marksmanship. Of course." Javert walks to the area where he has laid out rifles, pistols, and other old single-shot artillery. Not quite like in those old pirate movies, but only forty or so years down the line technologically. He lifts a rifle, examining it carefully. "We should manage that well enough."

She follows Javert wordlessly, keeping an eye on Kang until they're a safe distance away. Like there was such a thing.

Mei-Xing examines the weaponry critically, picking up a Charleville musket, and peeping along the sights. "This thing's kind of heavy." Ten or eleven pounds, she'd guess. She peers around the rifle, looking for where she's supposed to load the magazine. Or even a chamber for the rounds. "...Um."

"What?" He raises an eyebrow,somewhat amused by her obvious confusion.

"Ah." Maybe the barrel breaks down? She tries, grunting, but totally fails. Mei-Xing gives the rifle a frustrated look, then looks up at Javert. "...Where does the bullet go in?"

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