He nodded, disentangling his hand from hers to reach for his gun. "Like shooting skeet," he repeated, scratching at his forehead with his free hand, and took a deep breath. Not that he was nervous or anything. After all, what could possibly go wrong? "Toss it good and high."

And let this be as simple as you seem to think it will be, he added silently. I'll take the loss of face, just so long as it's not literal.