Kit frowned. “Homework? Not unless she’s doing it in the library. She drags in like a half-dead cat, gulps supper, then collapses for the night. I didn’t think it was possible to wear out an eighteen-year-old.”
Ann didn’t smile. “She needs to study. She keeps forgetting basics, like working the pump on the pump shotgun. Then she gets angry with herself when it won’t function like a semiautomatic. The double-action revolver isn’t a problem, but the self-loading pistols …” Ann just shuddered. “I haven’t even tried historical firearms yet. I don’t dare.”
”Great. I’ll start working her on basic firearms mechanical actions while she eats.”
”Good She needs it.”
The story was much the same from Sven. The stocky martial arts instructor saw him coming from across the weapons range, clearly considered ducking out the nearest exit, then visibly braced himself.
”That bad?” Kit asked without preamble.
”Kit,” Sven growled, “you got a big problem in that kid.”
”You don’t need to tell me that. All I get these days is trouble. Let me guess. She won’t apply herself to the learning.”
”Oh, no,” Sven shook his shaggy head “She’s nuts to absorb the stuff, fast as I can teach her. And she’s good, for a novice. Problem is, her attitude stinks.”
”What about her attitude?” Kit asked tiredly. “In a thousand words or less.”
Sven’s evil grin came and went. “Rough, is it? Teenagers. If they weren’t so cute, we’d drown ’em.”
”The cuter they are, the bigger the occasional desire to hold their heads underwater. So what is Margo’s problem?”