[The recognition - one warrior of sorts to another - is the first thing in the conversation so far to bring a sort of liveliness to his expression. Not much actually changes in terms of what his face displays, beyond the smallest of smiles, but there's a brightness in his eyes as he simply states:]

Katana. Uchigatana.

[Of course, lingering on it for too long will just remind him of his currently absent true body, and if he thinks about it too much, he starts to itch inside his own skin. There's a similar way to the curl of his own fingers, like he's used to resting his hand on a blade no longer at his waist.

But that hand raises a moment later, tracing the shape of a bow-hold in the air in a loose, elegant sort of way.]

I have yet to hold a bow for myself... Others in our Citadel specialize in archery, instead, but it's an easy thing to admire.