Among the group of to-be combatants was a man, aged in his thirties, of sinewy build, with pointed face and stubble. He wore over his normal clothes a brown overcoat. His eyes darted around the room and also to the rest of the group as they entered, scanning for any hint of danger, and his hands drifted beside his waist. When the box emerged he tensed and his hands slipped past his overcoat and revealed two holstered pistols, on which his hands were now resting on, but had not yet drawn.

This was David Pierce. If any of the other combatants had tried conversing with him before entering, they would have gained no personal information from him aside from his name, and even that would have been given hesitantly.

When Pierce was content that the box was no immediate threat, he relaxed slightly, although his hands had not moved. He did roll his eyes and give a grunt as the box attempted to sound dramatic and motivational, although he did not interrupt. When the box did move, and started preparing whatever it was that they were going to fight, Pierce slowly drew one pistol, clicked off the safety and held it steadily pointing at the place where the enemy would emerge, his finger resting against the trigger, ready to squeeze at a moment's notice. However, this high degree of alertness seemed to have gone to waste, as the fog cleared and revealed that the opponent was a plant- immobile, harmless, a bit anticlimactic, really.

Pierce's eyes darted around the room once more, checking for some trap, some surprise, some ambush, but he could see none. The Head Summoner seemed to be serious. Pierce shrugged, then fired twice into the base of the bush, the gunshots echoing across the hard, flat-walled room.
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Action: Attack the Bush (that would be 5-3=2 damage)