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Gunther wandered in and out of every metal/auto shop he saw. Even some antique shops. Inspiration filling up his mind with all sorts of ideas. He would try to incorporate wood grain etching into some of his blades next time. It looked really nice and it would add another level of aesthetic quality as well as show just how well made the blade was. Maybe he might even make a gun with that entering and exiting throughout it and stain the non etched parts red with acid. That would look really nice. The mafia were getting flashier and flashier these days with their weaponry. He was sure someone would appreciate that along with a power up. He had found a way to increase flame intake up to 40% more. Making the shot longer range, and much more powerful. The accuracy could be honed with goggles. But if you were a good shot you really didn't need silly things like that. A waste of time and energy not to mention a tad bit distracting in battle.

Gunther was still walking around looking for a few parts and metals he needed before he could start his commissions. It was way to expensive to import stuff from Germany here, let alone ship the stuff he had. He couldn't afford stuff like that unfortunately. He had to support his family...and the mafias he worked with were stingy. So he always sent almost all the money he makes to his family and kept enough for supplies and food. Though when he got to his new place he found an annonomys sum of money and a LOT of good German beer. He was so happy he almost cried. But being the stoic man he was he didn't. Instead he went out to have a drink...and to buy parts...

But strange. He felt like there was someone he knew around here. He just had that feeling. He turned his head. The tattoo on his face showed clearly.

Gun looked up at Gen with a blank stoic expression like always. He blinked and nodded, "Hello Gen. How are you today?" He asked in Russian with a thick heavy accent. It was good to see Gen again that was for sure. He and his mafia always paid him the best. "The Varia had asked me to come check up on their weapons. I knew you and the Vongola were allies...but i didn't know you were helping each other out. Do you need me to work on the Golovastov weapons as well?"

"My house? When i came here there was a large anonymous gift of money and good german beer." He said. A small ghost of a smile crossed his face. If you weren't looking hard enough you would have missed it. "We can go and i could do a tune up."

Gun shrugged and grabbed Gen's arm to lead him to his shop/home. "Just don't touch anything." He said blandly. He hated it when people touched his things and moved them SLIGHTLY out of place. It just bothered him to no end.

[[already did....It's a workshop slash house.]]

The Italian's step faltered for a moment, surprised at the sudden choice of topic, but picked it back up. She chewed of the inside of her cheek for a few minutes and sighed, knowing her explanation would be rather....simplistic....and would do no justice. But ******** that s**t, might as well try at least.

"So uh, there are seven types...You're a Storm...I'm a Cloud....There's Sun, Sky, Rain, Mist and Thunder, each has kind of a different effect I suppose...The flames are different colors and are triggered by strong emotions, desires, feelings, stuff like that." Imelda cringed at her fail explanation, but that was about the extent of her knowledge on it. Honestly, the girl never questioned it, it didn't hurt her, it helped her, and if it was so natural...It couldn't have been bad.