The old one's words stung. [i]He was weak? Like these [b]soft[/b] ones?[/i] Again, the nagging feeling told him that it was quite true, but again, Gavriil dismissed it. Choosing instead to leave himself out of the conversation like he had obviously been before, he glared at the ghost inhabiting his gun, relishing the screams. He knew that whatever the man used to be, it was strong. Gavriil's icy eyes darted up and around the store once to confirm that none were currently looking at him, and began to examine the wisp of etheral vapor more closely. It appeared to be locked into the bone parts that were as cool as the ice was to the touch. The screams grew louder as he caressed the barrel, which appeared to be made of quite a few bones stacked upon one another. [i]The 'White Death's' spine, perhaps?[/i] His large fingers paused at the very end, feeling the existentially carved rifling along the inside. 

Gavriil grimaced after a moment or two of basking in the refreshing chill that the gun seemed to give off passively. The crone's words came back into the forefront of his mind. Would every one of the so-called gods and their Ragnarok act so superior? It would be more annoying that just listening to the people around him speak of inner strength. He kept frowning even as Lucky asked his question, choosing instead to stare mutinously at the wall as he steadily convinced himself that this must be some sort of test, and forcing himself to believe that he'd be able to get stronger than before as the old hag had said.

The only female that he hadn't observed spoke up, her sarcastic tones cutting into Gavriil's focus. She had forwarded the most important question next to his. Before adding his response, the Russian glared her up and down, the scent and feeling of rushing water and fruit much clearer from her than of the one that felt like a raging battle. [i]Judging from her item, a healer? Feh. Helping others survive the harsh life was naive. We'll see how long she lasts before failing.[/i] He gave a snort of laughter before adding his voice to the barrage of questions as support. "The healer is right, elder. Do you have our job laid out for us, or is it again coming with the ravens?" His voice, while unnoticed to him, was missing the Russian accent it once held.