With a cry that was like a bullet shattering glass, the whole room seemed to turn upon the violent nucleus of disruption in the room.  Ray shot up out of his chair out of instinct, his half-eaten croissant bouncing on the floor under his chair, instantly forgotten.  He looked to Oren and Maeve but saw that they were doing nothing, which perplexed him.  If those two weren't springing into action, then was it really something that needed to be stopped?  Ray knew their reputation and in limited dealings with them had come to find almost immediately that they did not suffer fools lightly.  At the same time, Kora screamed like a banshee being fired out of a cannon, and wielding bowls of yogurt with the prejudice of a doomsday zealot.

His train of thought was halted abruptly by the calm, casual stride of a tall, dark individual.  He felt his whole body freeze.  Unlike Oren and Maeve, Ray had been in this man's presence before. Roderic Montana, a mercenary whose reputation in the war had preceded him.  You didn't earn titles like "The Betrayer" or "The Devil Himself" without being one scary, scary motherfucker.  
Even that was putting it lightly.  
Before he could even realize what was going on, his felt his stomach clench and a wave of nausea flowed through him.  He felt the powerlessness that could only be nullification.  He wasn't close enough to be disabled, but he felt the residual effects of its dissipation.

His breath suddenly returned to him and he sat slowly back down, trying to appear calm and collected.  He didn't think it would be too hard, nobody was paying attention to his side of the room anyway.
[i]Fuck me...looks like peace time hasn't dulled his edge at all.[/i]