He doesn’t really look all that bothered about the implications of what she’s saying. He knows the sound just like he knows every sound. He can hear almost everything on earth, so he learned to categorize early enough. But she doesn’t ask for a justification, and he doesn’t give it.

“I don’t need any weapons. You could shot a gun at me and the only dangerous thing would be that it would ricochet against my best.” He shrugs. He doesn’t like to brag, but he knows better than to play the ‘aw shuck’s modesty card when the entire world is dying.

“I’d say you can prove it with that axe of yours but we might need it, and it’d be a waste.”