Fives heads straight for the weapons, running his hands admiringly over them; weapons have been too central to his life, too essential for his survival, for him to not appreciate them even now. What he's looking for, though, is any sign of something sharp enough to open his veins or pierce to his heart, or something that could be made sharp enough. If he doesn't find it with the weapons he'll do a circuit of the rest of the room, looking for anything he can use.