"A witch, hm? I'd like to hear a little some time, if you'd tell it." This is no meaningless pleasantry. He really does want to hear it, and his tone may hint as much. It'd tell him a little about district four, maybe, and probably a little about the boy himself. No time now, though, because even as Roland says it he's walking into the training rooms. He slows a little, turns to watch Mollusc's reaction to the place. All the weapons, the machines meant to train and teach, the people here and there showing their skill. Panem being what it is, he doubts such a set of rooms even exist outside the Capitol, and how the boy reacts to that might be a good thing to know.

"Aang's a fine boy," he says, watching Mollusc's face. "Very agile, knows his way around a fight. I'm sure there's a few things he can teach you, too. But weapons - especially long distance ones - are what I know well. Pick one." His right hand waves toward the wall near which most of this place's training weapons are stored. With the gesture the cogs and gears that make up that hand's first two fingers flick toward a knife, and Roland raises his eyebrows. They can't just go and pick it up, after all. Well, they can. But a pretext will help.