He nods and takes off. It's a bit of a distance and a fair few peacekeepers through side-glances at him, but he figures if he puts on that blank avoxed expression well enough they'll leave him be regardless of how he looks otherwise.

He's got some hope in him that shit won't be so bad by the time he gets his return on, but there's not really a way for him to know. His wishing for his voodoo continues on as a buzz in the back of his mind, all while he's setting a chair down firm just behind the fucker.

After that, he's just got all to step back. Standby and wait. He fidgets with his dreads all lit up in the meantime.