Pride being one of Firo's main failings, he can't help but frown a little when he's handed the wooden sword. While he does like to avoid being cut up, his first impulse is to think that he's being patronized. Firo's prickly as a porcupine when it comes to that--he has enough people talking down to him.

But then Hector's words reach his brain and the sense in them is easy enough to grasp. Hastily, he shakes his head as if to let his pout fall off. "Right, right."

He nods and takes the wooden sword by the middle of the hilt, grasping it with one hand and holding it straight up. His grip, more accustomed to a much smaller knife, could probably use some work. "Am I holdin' it right?"