An eyebrow arched for a moment as Mello spoke words he was able to understand, and while they didn't call it French where he was from the two languages were close enough that there wasn't much to distinguish them from one another.

He dropped his sheet by the door, drawing closer and frowning. "We don't have guns in my world," he said, taking a knee before the couch and tilting his head to look into Mello's eyes, make sure he wasn't in shock. He'd grown familiar enough with guns in their travels, he wasn't fond of them. Ripping tearing things. "Did it go straight through?" he asked, offering up the sake.