[i]In any other situation, Genral would've accepted the invitation. The man was a mercenary priest, not a monster. The woman seemed nice enough from her demeanor, and for most, her appearance would warrant a natural spring of pity in their gut. However, the Initiate was on contract at the moment. He'd been told to win this tournament, or at least attempt to win it, receiving only half the payment if he failed. If the woman had entered, it was of her own volition, and she was not to be pitied for her poor choices. Choosing not to approach because he wasn't an underestimating idiot, he slung the Staff over his shoulder, the flips iliac weight of the gun filling out the grip of his hands, the weapon melding metaphorically with its wielder. Seeing the woman hadn't moved other than to wave him over, he checked the ammunition, nodding satisfactorily as he leveled the gun to his shoulder, letting off three explosive round shots aimed at her center mass, the breastbone.[/i]