Snippet #2664484

Concentration was key to this exercise...his attentiveness towards his surroundings as well as towards the actions of others. It would be a crucial skill in interrogation and Samon knew it. Luckily for him, his curse was also his gift. He couldn't see visual cues very well, but that also meant he couldn't be distracted as easily. Nothing to catch his eye, he didn't enjoy music as it took away a second sense of his and touch, smell, and taste would only get a person so far. He could complete this challenge.

Thump! The last item fell at four o'clock before Trainer Colt began talking once more, giving instruction to the task laid out in front of him, literally in this case. Samon didn't dare open his eyes, concentrating on the words, concentrating on the mat, concentrating on the air around him as if it would tell him the secrets of the challenge.

One thing he did get out of Trainer Colt: the man did know he was blind, just by the nature of the task.

He took a moment to process the area around him, formulate the right words, and listen intently for any more clues that may befall upon him. His patience paid off. A soft clink could be heard, minuscule to the normal ear, but to the heightened hearing that Samon was able to pick up, he knew something round, cylindrical, and metal was involved with what was scattered around him. And there were only a few things that could be involved with such a shape. But there was only one or two things involved with that shape in terms of Liberty devices. Samon opened his eyes.

"Thirty-six pieces," Samon began, before motioning to the area on the front right side of his body, "Twenty-one on this side, twenty-five on the other. But pieces of what is what you're asking for." He hesitantly bent down and, seeing no interruption from Colt, reached down to where he knew one of the pieces was. Sure enough, his hand brushed across something metal and round and he picked it up, feeling along it's grooves. Remembering the position the metal thing was in before he picked it up, he looked towards Colt.

"It's parts of a gun," Samon told him, "A revolver. Your revolver, I'm assuming." The piece he was holding in his hand was the cylindrical barrel, which usually carried six bullets. "But this gun is missing something." Immediately, he pointed his hand towards the one hole in the barrel, where a bullet should be presumably resting and waiting to be fired. "I'm assuming you haven't had the chance to use it today, so I would say you should still have six bullets. Yet, one is missing." He then dumped the bullets out of the barrel, letting them rest in his hand as he placed his finger over each one and counted. "One, two, three, four, five. Five bullets. And there..." he pointed with his free hand towards the left edge of the mat. If Colt were to follow the finger's line of sight, he would see it pointing directly to the last bullet, where had fallen off the mat he stood on and given the final clue he needed, "...is number six."