Zhevon had gone into a back room to find some sort of ladder or stepladder. Something that he could step on to reach the ceiling, to wipe the cream off of it. He spent several minutes there, eventually grabbing a stool. He stepped back out into the kitchen living room area, only to witness the second half of the debacle, which resulted in Stukov walking out and two spilled drinks. He sighed and rubbed his faceplate, setting the stool down. After Stukov had left, Zhevon spoke up.

[b]"Excuse me but how old are we?"[/b] A rhetorical question addressed to everyone present, [b]"We are not school children. We are trained, experienced servants of the Emperor. All of us. So why, tell me, did I just witness what I could describe as the bullying of one of the most veteran Armsmen of my personal Blackship? Who thought it was a good idea to test that mans patience, who just recently realized he is a Psyker and is most likely unstable,"[/b] Zhevon found himself speaking quicker and his volume increasing, [b]"[i]in the home of another Inquisitor?![/i]"[/b] He stopped for a second, lowering his volume to his usual, [b]"Keep in mind that we are guests here. All of us, even I. We are [i]allowed [/i]here."[/b] He looked to Solares. Zhevon ran his hand over the top of his helmet, taking off the hood. [b]"I know everyone has had a long day, I have as well. But I still shouldn't have to say any of this."[/b] He turned to Adrianne, [b]"I've lost my appetite. My apologies, Adrianne. I'll have some of your cooking another time."[/b] He walked out saying, [b]"If anyone needs my attention, I'll be just outside."[/b]

He stepped outside and sat on a bench, taking out a small leatherbound handbook and holding onto it. He looked up to the sky and gave a heavy sigh, thinking that he should have prayed to the Emperor just a little bit more.