He's not really sure what's going on. An indigo, one who looks relatively young but that's still much taller then he will ever be, has just stormed into the center. He's not really phased by the ranting, because, well, it's what they do. They're all volatile and loud and with the Grand Highblood's preaching they all say similar crap about mirth and carnivals and messiahs.

So he's not phased by that. Really, he finds the outburst...kind of hilarious. He doesn't bother trying to hide his chuckles, and if the Initiate simply glances to his right he'll find the Psiioniic perched cross-legged on a bench, pawing over a handful of knives.

"I don't think you'll find many faithful here, highblood."