While the epidemiology side of a zombie apocalypse would no doubt be a fun little mental game for him, from a purely analytical standpoint... the actual nitty-gritty of a real and true zombie apocalypse might have him pale as his own set of bones, my dear. Best saved for later in the friendship, eh?

Joly, for his part, does as promised. When her hand is released, he puts his to better work in taking her bag, and being so slim as he it, it is with a light squawk of surprise at its weight. Nothing he cannot handle, mind; it goes over a shoulder with only his brows sweating out their confusion, nothing more.

"Young lady! Such a weight will have disastrous consequences on your spine and posture." Tutted, with greatest and seemingly honest concern, before Joly was pulled back to earth (and away from medical scolding; lucky day) by the term 'archery.'

"A woman, shooting? Well-- well, well." It seemed off-colour, but nonetheless... a piqued smile, and a merry nod cam soon after. "I should like to see it! Besides, I should also like to save your posture, by keeping hold of this burden for a-while. Let's away, then?"