Zara walked next to him as he handed over the belt and some ammo, staring at it almost confused. Shot a gun? No, of course not. She had been a slave since she could brush her own hair. Why would they have given her, or even trained her how to fire a gun? That would be giving her a way to defend herself, end their grubby hands touching her and give her a sense of empowerment. Could she let him know that though? Could she admit to him that she didn't know how to fire a gun? It couldn't be that hard right? Just point it at the thing you wanted to kill and pull the trigger. It seemed easily enough that she figured she could fake it.

After an unnaturally long time, Zara finally answered him. "Uh, a few times." Her voice not nearly as confident as she had tried to portray. Maybe he wouldn't pick up on that, maybe he'd trust her at her words. A knife was easier. Close combat was less likely to miss what she was aiming for. 

Pausing in her steps to strap the gunbelt on, she cinched it tightly on her hips. Would she be more successful shooting with her left, or her right hand? Where would the holster be easier to grab from? She turned it to her left side and placed her left hand on the butt of the gun. Nope, didn't feel right. Trying to reach it from her right hand across her body just felt awkward and like a guarantee to shoot herself in the foot. Next she moved the holster in front of her, right under her belly button. Less uncomfortable to grab from, but made her nervous to walk. She did want kids one day and this was awfully close to her nether region for her tastes.

Finally settling on having it resting on her right hip for her right hand to get the quick draw, she nodded to herself before looking up to see his reaction to her fiddling with it. Did he notice? Maybe he would figure she was just trying to adjust to having something new on her body.