Dante was going to Dante. Him walking out the door prompted an eyeroll out of Mark as he moved to follow. The bikers were starting to get a little rowdy, so maybe it was for the best; if they were getting riled up because of the two of them then in taking it outside then it meant nothing inside would get smashed up. That was always a plus.

As Dante spilled his lament out to Mark the older man would shove his hands in his packet pockets, listening. Of course, he couldn't help but quip: "They're cheering because they're drunk and you're putting on a show. Gotta remember, most people are stupid and don't bother thinking things through. Top it off you're an amateur, so unless some label catches wind..."

At the passing of the object he held up a hand to catch whatever it was that Dante had thrown. He would have looked immediately, but that was when the doors burst open and took his attention. Between the outburst and the general shape and feel of the object in his hand, Mark easily pieced things together. And boy, was he unhappy. "Dante, you colossal asshole!" With one hard throw he'd send the wallet straight at the ringleader's face, fully intent on stunning him for at least half a second so he could get a running head start chasing after the delinquent, intent on sliding over the hood to get into the passenger seat. "One time, can I get one time where you take me out somewhere and not cause a damn riot?!"

Dante

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He couldn't help but smile at being able to catch her off-guard like that. Remembering what she said about the "ghosts", he'd think it'd be a weird thing that he'd succeed twice in a row with that. Either way, he'd take the bag off his shoulder, holding it up. "I dunno about you, but I'm a better learning having someone walk me through something. If you want, we can head back and I can show you how it's done over step-by-step processes. There's a couple of different methods I've learned, but I do what's easiest for me since, well, I've spent more time on the road than having a dedicated shop for it."

He'd shrug, looking about the room. "Unless your workshop is some kinda sacred shrine and it'd be better for lesser mortals to not walk on. Which if that were the case I wouldn't be offended, and can give you a step by step here."

Tabitha Yamamura

Mark had made a lot of bad decisions in his life. Moving to Japan, "adopting" Dante, stealing his little brother's lunch money when they were kids and blaming it on Dad. This one was far up there on his list, and unfortunately for him this was one of those decisions he could very easily live long enough to regret. 

The field Mark had selected today's training was something that most students used to gauge ranges on their quirks. It was mostly dirt, long, flat, and near the end there were a few large mounts of dirt in order to catch projectiles. There were even a few meter ranges that they could use to best judge distance. Of course, no one hardly used it and Mark had commandeered a corner for his own training purposes, and it was also one of the few times he had to share it with anyone else. 

All because Marlene wanted to learn how to shoot. 

It was a bad idea. A very bad idea. In fact he didn't want to do it, but then he might get in trouble for being the only expert on campus and then someone got hurt because he wasn't there to supervise, blah blah blah. Either way, he was going to start out small and explain the basics once again to Marlene once she got there. On a folding table he would have several boxes of ammunition, and three different guns. Two would be familiar as they were the ones he kept on his person at all times, the usual Carry and the ever elusive Wayward Son. Along with them would be an unfamiliar, smaller revolver laying on top of the table, along with safety glasses and ear muffs. 

Marlene Lovechild

Despite being as abrasive as possible, she was still more than willing to learn. It didn't bode well, but then again that was the one thing he didn't like about hero students. Namely, all the good ones. Set a challenge, tell them that they won't or shouldn't do it, and instead of backing down they rise to the occasion. The cherry on top was Marlene, despite running on springs and Duracell, carried a similar mentality to her meatbag cohorts. Guess stupidity isn't just a human trait anymore.

"Ground Delta has some good sightlines that we can use as a makeshift range. Be out there by four thirty tomorrow." He'd reach over to pick up his hat, ready to walk out the door. "All you need is your body."

Marlene Lovechild

Mark would nod as she repeated back all the relevant information, satisfied. Granted, he'd have to test her on this knowledge in the future, but he had more faith in Marlene than he did most other students. He assumed it had to do with writing this directly to the harddrive for future use, but he had offended her once and he wasn't going to bring that particular fact up.

"The last thing you need to know goes hand in hand with what I normally teach." He pulled a bullet from a pocket, a larger round than what could be chambered in the Carry. "What most media teaches you about cover and ballistics is bullshit, at least ninety percent of it. This here is a solid chunk of lead that can punch through a man and turn his insides to gelatin, creating a softball-sized hole in his back. But just because you've dusted your target doesn't mean that this thing stops moving." He'd offer the round to her, looking her straight in the eye. "Know what your target is. Know what your target is behind, know what is behind your target. The second you pull that trigger, the likelihood of you ruining someone's day is above zero. It could be the bad guy, a cactus, or someone's grandma. Neutralizing the threat is one thing, but something that hero society doesn't like to advertise is collateral damage."

He'd pause, pressing his lips together before continuing. "The moment you decide to fire, you need to be sure no one you want hurt gets hurt. If you want to continue on this path, then we can begin training proper tomorrow."

Marlene Lovechild