She gave him a knowing and slightly mischievous smile for the question- the kind that pulled just a little more into one cheek than the other. No verbal response came, however. Not yet. She merely pushed the wetstone in a small pouch on her hip, wiped her fingers and the arrowhead on her thighs, and stood up from her wooden seat.
"I might have an idea how to use it," she lead him on a few steps into the empty lot, the long grass and dead reeds doing their best to grab at her legs as she walked. Their destination was a pile of discarded construction scrap sittng near the house; pieces of dry wall, crumbling brick and the like. With her weapon still slung across her back, she scooped up a piece of chalky board roughly the size of his head, and showed it to him with a challenging grin.