She flashes something that's almost a grin, miming a bullseye with a finger pistol pointed at him and her thumb on the trigger: "That's exactly what I did. I just needed it to work long enough to put someone down and get my hands on their gun, and that's what happened. Back when there were still bullets anyway."

Rosita is not a large person so her belt is lightly functional at best; it holds her knife in place but that's about it. All the same it's always double-pronged and sturdy, with a buckle the width of her palm.

Then he asks a question that catches her... not completely off guard, but the way she blinks about it when she's readily fielded other questions about walkers and survival and things most people would consider much harder subjects is probably more telling than she'd like. Most survivors don't talk about the old world anymore. There's no point unless it's a skill that carries over.

Although apparently, now it does. "Oh, uh. It's... it might be complicated. And feels stupid now," she hedges while she tries to find her metaphorical footing again.