"Okay, so the armor I'll give you." Because Tucker could relate on a level most folks around here couldn't; the sudden lack of heavy weighte familiar armor wasn't nearly as freeing as one could hope. But while a gun would be totally appreciative, Tucker wasn't completely put out by the lack of a sword. Some people were just lucky enough to have a "natural inclination" towards that shit.

Chosen One. Boom. Mic drop.

But having a sword didn't mean he was formally trained in it; everything he had learned was self taught from way too many old movies when he was a kid. The fact that he survived the desert was a miracle; the shit he pulled on Chorus was thanks in part to Wash, but most of it was just unpolished instinct.

It didn't stop his ego from acting like he was goddamn Highlander, however.

"But come on, the swords are fun." For him. Only for him, probably. His eyebrows arched, a cocky little smirk crossing his lips. "Want me to teach you a thing or two?" Yeah. Right. But hey, he was serious.