"Then, you fought with-- what, back home?"

He looks at the bow, the arrows, and thinks it would be unmanly to turn her down. Nonetheless, gingerly, he puts up a hand to pause her.

"I'm-- a shot, a fair shot, that is, with a rifle, eh? I've no need for arrows." If there was the slightest tremor of fingers there? Ignore it my dear, ignore it. He'd not held a weapon since being run through with it. The topic was still rather sore.