not so easy:

A shot rings in my ears. Trixie reloads the shotgun, spent case landing in the puddle of my vomit. She pulls the trigger one more time, but nothing happens. Of course, the ammo belongs to Vinyl, who knows how she stores it. In her ass, maybe? Trixie waves the shotgun around, turning to me. Oh, fuck no…

“Minuette! It doesn’t–” The shotgun goes off. Hangfire, of course. I try to shrink myself, but I imagine shots piercing through me. What would my mother say?

Nothing nice, probably.

I open my eyes. Luckily the shots hit the ceiling of the wagon. Trixie screams and drops the shotgun. She looks at me, her eyes wide and tries to levitate it with her magic.

“Put it fucking down!” I shout, wiping sweat from my forehead. I still hear ringing in my ears. “Just put it down and don’t fucking touch it!” It’s a bit harsh, I know, but she just proved that she’s completely unfamiliar with guns. Well, it’s kinda my fault too – I should’ve ask her first if she ever shot anything before handing the shotgun to her.

Actually, it’s mostly my fault.