"You got this," he said in encouragement as he stood, arms folded, leaned against a lone fencepost.

[i]I do not aim with my hand, I aim with my eye.
I do not kill with my gun, I kill with my heart.[/i]

As Isaac watched Zara, his bottom lip in his mouth as if to get the last taste of their kiss, he couldn't help but be taken back to his early lessons with [i]The Courier,[/i] Cairo Storm.  The veteran roamer of the wastes - bane of the bullies, hero of the weak - hadn't wanted to take on an apprentice.  He refused when young Isaac first asked.  The kid wore him down.  Half a hundred requests, fourty-nine rejections.  After following him two miles north of the New York area and almost getting killed in one helluva showdown, Isaac's tears, passion and perseverance finally got him the answer he was looking for.

And now [i]he[/i] was teaching [i]someone else[/i].  How to aim.  How to kill.

"Nice!" the man cheered, walking over and giving Zara a high-five.  He wanted to kiss her again - grab that tiny waist and pull her in tight.  Best to keep it casual.  Isaac was usually a good judge of character when it came to the fairer sex.  He'd seen enough, to be sure.  Zara though - she was different.  Hard to figure out.  On the one hand, she was fierce like fire; would probably like a guy who could match that energy - take the initiative.  One the other hand, she was just getting out of traumatic situation.  Who knew what could trigger her - set her off.  And as stated; she was fierce like fire - he'd probably lose an eye or something.  "Let's go again."

He watched her practice for a little while, pointing out any flaws and making sure she didn't grow any bad habits in her technique.  Where he could, he'd praise her like royalty.  Just like his teacher.

"Alright enough," he finally said.  "Let's go eat.  Them mole rat steaks sound even better, right about now."

And with that, they headed inside, Isaac giving her a pat on the lower back.  "You'll be a shooter in no time, emerald eyes."