He knew that he shouldn't be there, looking for them. In light of recent events, perhaps it would even be wise that he avoided them, but he couldn't stay away. They were, regardless of his loyalties, friends, and deserved to know what had happened. Given his luck, he'd probably end up helping them again. He tore a rift in space to enter his room, appearing as if several tendrils of iridescent light were slowly pulled together by an unknown force, lighting up even brighter as the tendrils collided. His room was a strewn heap of clothing, bottles, and empty bullet cases. Home... Wait a minute... Ginger was many things, but he never shot anybody in his room... To his knowledge, at least, and he would've cleaned up afterwards. His face contorted in disgust when he entered the hallway, the normally stark white corridors stained with blood and bullet holes. Bodies littered the ground, and from the littered mess that remained he identified them as Del Fino's. Curiouser and curiouser. His boots made a splattering sound as they collided with pools of blood and armor as he made his way to the war room. Hopefully someone would be there.