"Hm? Oh, no, not much of one. Wouldn't do you much good to have the man at your back shot for no good reason, would it?" He pulls himself up a little, not leaving the cover of the machine churning above him and not moving the hand on his arm. So long as Roland has time to settle Firo's mind from whatever it is concerning him, he'll do it. Another bullet pings off their cover - or, he thinks, the cover next to them, off the machine a foot or two in front of their own. Of course the noise of this place still hasn't let up, but shooting is loud, and Roland's ears are still good. He hears a voice, too, distant, scared and trying not to sound it. Their enemy, probably.

"Ought to pay attention to that," he murmurs. "Can you make his words out? If we can get him talking, we might find out how many there are. Tricking your enemy into wasting words is even better than tricking him into wasting bullets." Did you like that last part, Firo? It was a little lesson, just for you. Don't say now's not the time, either - it's never not the time to teach.