（ maybe it's a medic's instinct that lets him cotton on to somethin' bein'... let's say not quite right. but he ain't got a clue of what or the why of it, but he ain't about to say nothin' or ask. he just nods, an' then sets that wildin' pistol back on the wall. ）

Nah, I ain't in the market for anythin' of a custom sort. Though if'n you're askin' roundabouts for a hand, that I don't mind so much.

（ teamwork, an' all that. bound to make a difference. ）