Doesn’t matter where I’m going, she’ll often ask. If she knows if the area is not a great one, she definitely asks (reformatted, emphasis mine):
This morning, in light of recent events, Bobbi replied to my “I’m headed out” with “Do you have a gun?” She was asking out of genuine concern, and so I did not reply sardonically with “I’m wearing pants, aren’t I?” or “Am I in the secure area of an airport?” But I’m not carrying a gun because I’m afraid. I’m carrying a gun because carrying a gun is what I do. If I’m dressed, there’s a Gen4 Glock 19 on my person, whether I’m at home or out and about.
I carry a wallet in case I need to buy something. I carry a flashlight in case I need to see something. I carry a knife in case I need to open something. And I carry a gun in case I need to stop someone from trying to grievously harm me. This doesn’t mean that I walk around thinking everyone’s trying to grievously harm me, any more than it means I think everyone’s a dark place that needs a flashlight shone on them.
I’m not sure it’s a case that I’m “afraid”, its more the case that I feel “undressed” especially if I have to go where I’d have a bad hair day if I was carrying where I shouldn’t be.