The young lad trembled as he gripped his staff for support. He felt like he was going to go down again. "Help me?" He pleaded in meek desperation to those beside him, not knowing if the old man or the smaller red-robed mechanicus woman would be able to help him stand, or if he even had the right to ask. 

Markus flinched as the guardsman spoke the word, "Psyker." It was true, and it made him something less than human. He wondered if the people beside him would simply drop him and walk away as soon as they realized...  He was one of those dangerous witches, a pox upon the species that should simply be given the Emperor's peace. He looked up, looking away again as his eyes hurt. All he could think was that he had endured some kind of psychic attack from this man, and this this man wasn't normal. 

It was already too late to deny the accusation. Markus was too young and stupid to be at all a good liar, and his face had already confessed. "I'm... trained." He quickly tried to justify his existence and put their fears to rest. Speaking taxed what little energy he had so far recovered, and so it was slow. "I've been trained only in how to serve the Imperium. I cannot cause you any harm. Please, let me go. I need to reach the elevator. I have... duty. It's important." Markus made no attempt to contest. Truly, he was pathetic.