Vaughtar really tried to, but still all his silent effort ended in him still not being happy about what Rozalind had had to say.

"So you are essentially telling us to prepare for something we don't know yet. Then I honestly see no point in you ranting at us here. Neither will deafening us and driving us into defeatism by telling us how much we potentially sucked improve our physical prowess while we stand in this gym not execising nor will keeping us away from analyzing the recently collected information do the same thing in the intellectual realm. If you'd excuse me, please ?"

The gargoyle's voice was far from unfriendly even though it was -- as usual -- the very core of the definition of 'chesty' and 'roaring', but he walked away subtly exhibiting a certain stop-me-if-you-can attitude. The question now however was where to go -- and if Rozalind would decide to catch up with him and fire back, noticing the noticeably buckled metal gratings his steps left behind in the process. He planned to keep his implied promise and give himself an update on the research front, but afterwards there was another task pending:  having a drink with Zesiro...