So did Roland, once upon a time. Of course his own missing fingers are symptom of a very different mistake, but. No sympathy here.

"True enough." He notes with approval how carefully she keeps her fingers in a safe area. She'd not seemed the type to treat the weapon lightly, certainly not once he'd warned about it. But it's still satisfying to see he's judged her well. And if a little of that hidden expression did show through, Roland would neither point it out nor see any shame in it. For one who's handled books her whole life instead of weapons, it's only right. That she's taking it seriously speaks well enough.

"Let's find a table." One hand holds her case to his side, and the other presses against a knee as he stands. "What we can do now is begin to show you how to break it down. I'd not do that on the floor, especially not with an unfamiliar weapon."

He starts out, heading toward one of the groups of rooms he'd noted earlier. "When we've time, we can collect some things with which to make your tools." It's possible he seems a little more than casually invested in this whole process. That may be because he is. Limited as the scope of this is and as frustrating the lack of supplies may be, it does feel good to teach again.