It was known that Sean wasn't the best at shooting and aiming, let alone even drawing without fumbling with his gun. So you had decided to train him, even if he was a stubborn little prick. He's Irish, what can you do? You were also a rather stubborn man when your heart was set on whatever it was. (Coming from an Irish person) After a few days of practically begging him, he finally relents. Only because he's gotten sick of you being at his feet, begging him to let you train him. Quite an amusing sight, a man at his feet, begging. He'd be lying if he said that he was paying attention more than half the time as to what you were saying. At least, the first times it was amusing.

"Aye, wha' the.."

He muttered, his jaw slightly dropping at the sheer velocity and accuracy of you drawing and shooting a can that had been set up along the table at Horseshoe Overlook. He glanced down at his gun in his holster, his hand absentmindedly tracing the leather of the holster. He couldn't deny that it was kind of a turn on after seeing you blow the smoke away from the bullet hole of the gun.

"Alrigh', alrigh'. Teach me yer ways, ya bloody.."

He trailed off, huffing softly as he looked away before looking back, nodding slightly as if assessing what he could take from your demonstration.