Guns and Coyote are entwined like a nail in a hand, and the god is closer than he needs to be -- where he can smell the blood, and feel the wince. He has to get away, because it brings back old memories that have been kept secret. Guns has been a terror to all the Native gods, except for the ones that hid from him like intelligent cowards, and stayed so far out of his reach as to risk their own deaths, as the people abandoned gods that did not answer prayers. When he's away from the creator god, Guns can reestablish himself as sane and friendly and carefree, and supposedly non-violent. When the color red is rejected, Guns shrugs, and it changes to blue, and the blue on the floor becomes red. Fingers do work, and he comes up to Raven, dips his finger in the jar, and draws one blue line straight down the god's nose.
"There!" His eyes turn back to Rave, and it is clear that Guns does not expect Raven to comment on whatever looks or comments the girlfriend receives. "And what should I call you, Miss?" After receiving his answer, he nods, and moves to one of the chairs. "Now, let's not be shy--" The jar changes colors again, flickering to an orange-brown, and he gestures at Onatah. "Come on!" He sincerely hopes that everyone won't stand around being awkward and shuffling their feet, when there are so many things to talk about.
Coyote comes back a minute late, and Guns knows it, but he says nothing. He is soothed by the lack of blood and the costume, because everyone matches now, and he can support his peaceful sham. "Coyote, help the other missus out." As lead trickster, Coyote should know a thing or two about throwing parties, and should at least be able to hustle his own pantheon into action. In the meantime, Guns is playing a mental game of roulette: who will be his chosen favorite/target for the night?
The Comanche were disenfranchised of a great deal of their land after the Jerome Agreement; many of them left their traditional Oklahoma lands for Western education. There are less than 15,000 tribal members remaining. Their fleeting sharpshooting did not save them.