Evy stands after him, wondering how exactly one goes about carrying a gun while walking around, and quickly decides "pointed down" is likely good enough for the moment. Fingers away from the trigger, keeping its heft and feel in mind--she'll keep all his lessons in the front of her mind, an easy task at this point. There haven't been many so far.

Roland is right about her. She's not made for killing, and she'd rather not do anything of the sort; she regrets enough indirect deaths at her hands, never mind the possibility of being directly responsible. But maiming isn't beyond the pale--not when it's in self-defense, anyway--and one needs to be able to aim if one is going to hit a kneecap.

"What sort of tools do I need?" And here she'd thought a gun was enough.