>It’s range day for you and your AMD-65, Mata.

>While she is an AK pattern, she goes out of her way to point out she is not Slavic.

>She's the pride of your collection, the only non-US made rifle you have that is closest to military specs.

>Lack of selector switch and 16" barrel aside, that is.

>A few magazines later, you look over the ventilated silhouette target with a smile, the majority of hits between 1-1.5 MOA at 40 yards.

“Pretty good stuff today,” you say, showing the paper to the bunny eared Waffegeist.

“It's still only paper,” she says with a slight frown.

“Oh come on, Mata. It's not so bad in the civvie world, is it?” you say, using your phone to take a picture of the freshly used target.

“I am a military grade combat rifle. I was not made for this… this sportlövészet,” she complains, stumbling into her native tongue for a moment.

“Sport shooting isn't too different from training,” you argue as you put the mags back into your range bag.

>Mata just grumbles under her breath as her long ears twitch in annoyance

>The walk back to the car is quiet

>As you climb into the driver’s seat you give Mata a look and see she has a pensive look on her face as she clips her seat belt on.

>The drive is silent, Mata staring out the window at passing scenery with a frown marring her cute face.

“Talk to me, Mata,” you say as you drive with the sulking bunny of a Waffegeist beside you.

>Her left ear twitches, acknowledging you, but she stays stubbornly quiet.

>You're used to her moods by now, however, and just wait her out.

>She finally breaks the silence with a sigh.

>“Sometimes I miss my old life of being a paratrooper,” she mutters.

“That still bothers you?” you question, flicking the blinker.

“I'm a rifle built for military service, not shooting at steel and paper targets,” she huffs.

“I know, hon, but you're not in the service anymore, or even Hungary for that matter,” you state as you merge into traffic

“Don't remind me,” she sighs, slumping down in her seat, ears drooping. “I miss jumping out of planes while strapped to a Hungarian paratrooper. I miss the rush of the wind against me as my soldier and I would jump.”

“Do you miss being locked away for weeks and months at a time in a lonely, cold armory?” you ask, glancing towards her as you drive.

>Mata replies with an incoherent grumble, looking away and back out the window.

“Do you miss not having freshly cooked food daily?” you continue, pulling off the highway.

>More grumbling.

“Do you miss only getting the occasional liver and meat cream rations?”

>You turn down the road leading to home.

>Mata says nothing but shudders at the mere mention of MREs.

“Do you miss not sleeping on a real bed, but on a rack instead?” you ask as you park the car in front of the house.

“Oké Oké, én kap ez. I get it,” she grumbles, crossing her arms and huffing as you exit the car, walking around to her side of the vehicle.

>You then open the door for her.

“I can open door myself, you know,” she says with an arched eyebrow and twitch of her ears.

“You're a lady and I'll treat you as such. Not my fault you're still not used to it,” you smile.

“Bolond,” she mutters under her breath as she climbs out of the car.

“Oh, hush,” you tease, wrapping your arms around the bunny eared Waffegeist and pulling her into a hug.

“Most of all, do you miss not being my cuddle bunny?”

>You stroke her ears and ruffle her hair in conjunction with the teasing, making her blush a deep crimson before she pushes her forehead into your chest.

“I'm a service tier rifle, damn it!” she declares out of anger and embarrassment. 

“Yes, you are, you are a service tier cuddle bunny of a rifle,” you say with a smile as you tighten your hug around the sputtering Mata. You release her just enough to step back so as to look down at her.

“Now, come on. I'll give you a good cleaning. I even got that shampoo that keeps your tail fluffed the way you like it.”

>You stroke one of her ears as you speak.

“Fine, but I am NOT cute!” she declares, still blushing furiously.

>She then marches into in the house in a huff.

>You smile watching her go

“Ah, so adorable.”