Ghaleon listened to these Gods with annoyance toward the whole affair. No matter what the circumstances that brought them here, Nothing about this carried promise for it being a good thing. The Woman with he Attitude toward the hands that plucked her from her world, while she had every right for such anger, now wasn't the time, and hoped she came to realize that, and soon. Then the Jester, That seemed way too okay with his current predicament, This only being a product of his training, for this Court Fool was wearing a mask, meaning the clues to his capability was shielded from his gaze. He might be the most treacherous one of them all.<br/><br/>But as his eyes laid on yet another Human, he tilted his head toward him, Meeting his gaze as he looked to be Sizing him up. While he couldn't place where any of these people came from, This man was the closest thing he had seen to his world since he arrived. He looked like the Tinkers who were working to further Technology, but leaps and bounds of ahead. His inquisitive look caused Ghaleon to shift his face and body language to a more docile, empty shade. He mirrored the Grey gods mannerism near perfect and turned back to face the three Gods, that the jester was busy inspecting.<br/><br/>Each time Abaddon spoke, Ghaleon grew more annoyed, though it was for his tone, Not words. He was right after all, this was not the first time Ghaleon was forced to arrive at a God's behest, and knew it wouldn't be the last. Gods always chose the mortals for their Dirty work, it was a wonder if they had any real power to begin with. The noble comment did make him crack a smile as he crossed his arms, His hands disappearing into his coat. While the stance spoke of a closed off man of action, His eyes shifted ever so slightly, for he noticed his Needles, all 1000, 500 on each side of his coat were gone. What did they expect him to do? Take a Belt and Make a Sling for rocks? Though now that he thought about it, that just might be what he needs to do. With that in mind, He slowly melted into his head and began thinking like the Rogue he was. How many things did he have on him that could kill someone quickly, What could he fabricate. His stance changed once again, his hand coming from his coat to rest a finger under his chin as he began thinking out every possibility, without the luxury of other information. As more information came, the more complex his plans would become.