No, he isn't -- that's why he still speaks out against this or that, or supports something non-violent from time to time. But for whatever purposes, guns still end in death: the death of an animal for food, the death of an enemy that might have caused a friend or family member harm. Somebody dies (or is meant to) when a gun appears, and so death haunts Guns without mercy. He doesn't mind very much.
He watches her go and adds nothing. There is no goodbye, or promise that he will see her again -- though he likely will. Instead, Guns sighs, and with his breath he dissolves effortlessly into smoke, dissipating into the wind and leaving nothing but the faint smell of gunpowder behind.
At the park, the police are baffled. The dead man's gun has been emptied, and the bullets are nowhere to be found -- so did he hit someone? And where was that someone? And his face--
It's front page news the next morning. And that is what makes New York home.