He nodded without opening his eyes. "They shouldn't be long, we all agreed to check in within five days. It's been four, so today or tomorrow they'll be here." He sighed and rolled onto his back, one arm still around her as he stretched. He went limp and let his eyes open, gazing half-focused up at the ceiling. "Until they come, I should go through the armory. Take stock and count of our weapons, ammunition, armor. We'll have to share with the Runners, or the ones who know how to use guns." He looked over at her. "Do they? Do you? It's an old world skill, so I wouldn't expect all of you to know, but still..."<br/><br/>He reluctantly got up and stood, stretching and twisting, and went to slip his shoes on. The rest of his gear he left hanging. "Come on, let me show you the armory," he said, waving her along. He led her back into the main complex and into a larger side room, with rows of shelves and boxes all designed to safely store firearms. The room looked huge, with a capacity for a few hundred; less than fifty rifles were set on their mounts, though, all of different make and design, and a similar number of pistols hung on the wall. Carson yawned and lifted a pair of boxes up from under a table onto the flat surface, then opened both, shifting through the ammunition stored in each one. "Most of these were here when I found the place," he explained. "These, along with the Growlers. That's what I call the vehicle we came here on, that two-wheeled monster. Old world tech, but still works."