Callused and deft hands engulfed yours. The palms cupping your hands were nearly twice the size of your own. Sniper stood behind you, guiding you to properly hold your weapon—a gun of your choice. Despite his usual withdrawn nature, Sniper didn’t mind assisting you in improving your weaponry skills—he also didn’t mind teaching you hands-on, his front slightly pressed into your back. “There ya go, Sheila,” he praised in a whisper, steadying your trembling hands, “take it easy. Yer doin' fine.”