Dying (again) was most certainly not on the agenda - not for Killian, who had drank with the Grim Reaper far too many times while stuck in what was presumably a literal hellhole. He armed himself as he usually did, sword sheathed in its scabbard, knives on his belt, pistol on the holster. Ammo was still a concern, but he planned to simply do what Natasha had suggested - which was use the firearms that shot photons for training (or donate, whatever, to the people who actually wanted to teach firearms) and make gunpowder for the rest of the stash, for excursions such as these.
You never could tell what you'd encounter out here.
"Ready, Rosa?" he asked as he approached her on the trail, a flash of teeth that was a glimpse of genuineness - even reached his eyes. He did so love adventure, and keeping busy was better than not. At the very least, he'd not run out of things to do in Grim anytime soon. "I see you've got your weapons at the ready. Impressive."