Upon being posed the question concerning the particular origin of their unexpected fifth member, Abaddon put his hand to his mouth and chin in thought, as if taking in the information that the Master Mage had so graciously decided to provide him. "Well you see, sir," the world-weary courier began, lowering his hand from his face, "I've done a lot in my short life. Some I'm proud of, some I ain't. But I've traveled this world of ours, and on those travels I've met folks from all walks 'o' life. Big an' small. Rich an' poor. Slave an' free. Desertian an' Drakovian. An' every combo in between." The gunslinger paused to take in a breath.

"All makes a fella' think 'bout things, y'know sir?" Abaddon continued, taking a moment to glance to the redheaded foreigner-mage before facing back to the Master, "Personally, I don' care. If she can do the job, she can do the job. S'all there is to it. And if she - or any 'o' the others, really - can do it without pissin' me off, good on her. Just makes our 'lil manhunt that much more simple. And simple means we can all jus' go back home." Lord knew how much Abaddon wanted to 'jus' go back home', that was for sure. 

Abbadon looked down to the young little novice mage joining the group. "Heh," the gunman snorted, grinning just a little bit at Aura's resolute promise and offer to seal the deal via interlocked pinkies. "Okay then, kiddo. Pinkie promise," the gunslinger nodded, lowering his hand and taking the white-haired mage's pinkie in his own before giving a firm shake to seal the deal, "Alrighty. Now I won't let you down, that's for sure. Just try not to let [i]me[/i] down either, that sound good? Good."