A Firm Grip

Stood still on the dark wood. Looked down at my right hand, feeling weight where there used to be none. I bent my wrist, lifting the black revolver just enough to check its balance. Solid. Ahead lay a massive steel multitool, resting cold and quiet across the scratched surface. I stepped closer, resting my left hand against its brushed metal edge. Real iron under my fingers. Good ground to stand on.