Trystan nodded at her explanation, grinning slightly. "Heh.... heheh. That seems much more viable then you being in the army." When she asked about his revolvers he raised an eyebrow, chuckling lightly, putting an arm around her. "Ah, you see, that my friend is just a little bit bloody. But since you told me yours, I'll tell you mine." He took the newly cleaned pistol gently, spinning it around his fingers again. "You see, back before all this stuff happened and the world literally went to hell, I was much more unstable. I would come up, go on a rampage, and then come back down." He shrugged, tilting his head. "Well, one day I decided to stay up after leaving a path of destruction, and this happened around the Cold War era. The Russians caught word of me, sent out one of their best platoons to hunt me down." He stopped his revolver, holding it out so that the skillfully engraved handle faced her. "You can guess what happened. That was quite possibly one of the best days of my life back then. These pistols belonged to their leader. Too bad he wasn't much of a challenge." He shrugged again, studying her, tilting his head. "Of course, I did have respect for the man. He was a devilish mind. Almost fell for a couple of his traps a few times. So, I kept his pistols, trained with them, and for the better part of that time, those pistols were all I used. I haven't used my fire for quite some time, although I do use my magic to make my special ammo." He winked at her, going back to spinning the revolver around, tossing it behind his back, catching it in the same hand.