He tenses against her as he feels her going for his gun. The sandalwood of the grips still give off an aroma, even after all these years. The guns, forged from the steel of Arthur Eld's sword Excalibur and handed down through his line, coming to his father Steven, and then finally to Roland, are almost a physical part of him and he will not have them used against him. He reaches lightning fast and stops her hand where it lays on his hip. He has no reason to trust her, not even her disorientation and fear.

"Let me take them off," he says, gently but firmly. It would do well, he thinks, to keep weapons far away from Diane right now.