Raising an eyebrow, Tseng turned to look in the direction Reno was pointing (though the little voice in his head told him it was merely him picking a fight in frustration), catching the slight flash of silver as he did so. He was immediately alert- quickly reaching into his jacket and fingers wrapping around his gun, inwardly relieved to find it still there; Tseng wasn't about to let himself be assulted by another of the silver-haired ones, even if he really was dead already.