[ Her eyes follow that right hand, and she can almost feel the itch in his fingers for his weapon; she knows the feeling well, although she wonders just what kind of weapon he'd have in comparison. Whatever it might've been, he doesn't have it now. They're on equal footing.

(Even if she has plans to carve a bow of her own make, here - it's not weirwood from beyond the Wall, but it'll do.)

She stalks a bit closer, fearlessness in her eyes. Now that she can see him a bit better in the gloom she can see he's significantly older, at least older than she is. ]

These shelters, they're here for the takin'. And it don't matter who y'are - it's up t' whoever's the strongest t' claim them. [ She takes a step closer, warily. ]

How strong do y' think you are, then? [ her smirk abruptly drops. ] Old man.