[She feels an odd flush of defensiveness when he makes the perfectly reasonable statement that neither of them are fighters. Why do her feelings lately make no sense? It doesn't do anything to improve her mood.]

I don't know. An amateur with a big dirty shovel might frighten me more than a swordfighter who knows what he's doing.

[She peers around Claude into the building. There's the shop counter and its old-fashioned register, there's the fashionable clothing hanging from the racks... being well-lit by natural light, because there is a big hole in the ceiling at the top of the staircase.]

That's... that's impossible. Joann!