Eren's father Can had the gun license forms spread across the kitchen table like he was about to deal cards.
"You need a health report, a criminal record check, two passport photos and a reason." He tapped each little pile with one finger as he went, slow and pleased, the same way he used to walk a loan applicant through exactly why the answer was no. "And the reason can't be the real reason."
"What's wrong with the real reason." Eren dropped into the chair across from him and grabbed the top form. It was already half filled out in Can's tidy bank handwriting.
"The real reason is you're buying guns for elves to fight a monster on another planet." Can still didn't look up. "Write that on a state form and see how fast a man in a grey suit comes to visit the farm."
Fair point..
So the form said recreational hunter. Eren stared at the little box where you wrote your purpose and felt his whole face do something stupid.
