He chokes a little bit with audible--not laughter; he wouldn't laugh at Myr, certainly not to his face, but slight incredulity at the idea of being asked to whip out a greatsword and use it to spar with a man who can't see.

"Maker's bits, you don't play around, do you? That wouldn't end well for either one of us. I don't have it on me anyway. I could do a branch, though, or..." He casts around for something suitably blunt and harmless, and finds a headless polearm that someone's discarded. It's not ideal, but at least it can't lop off anyone's arm, as long as he's not rejecting the offer out of hand. (Why he isn't, he's not sure. The guy is just so...determined.)

"All right. Stick with the staff, would you? I'm not looking to get stabbed through the gut with a magic blade. I wouldn't feel any differently if you could see."