He isn't a brawler, at least by choice. Hell he can't even remember winning a fistfight as a kid. But when you know a strategy works for an enemy... "Yeah, yeah." he nods his head, leaning back over the console. "That'll work. If you can get a handgun with those for me, I'd appreciate it."
And then the second reason he came to the armory comes back to mind. He makes a furtive glance behind himself before leaning a bit closer towards Jacob. "Look, I'm still a fish out of water here, so I don't mean to be politically incorrect or anything, but--" he gives the man a weary look, "how do you handle having all these aliens around?" It had only been--based on his skimming of the modern historical codices lying around, what, two generations since their first contact with a living species? That's not long enough to take them for granted.