XIII followed after Rozalind, stopping only when they bumped into Dzel and Herbert. The conversation was brief and they parted ways, but not before XIII was handed a small handgun. They continued towards the control room and before they could reach it, Twain fell out of one of the nearby doorways. 

XIII jumped slightly at the scene, and as Rozalind noticed Twain's apparent drunkenness, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "That may be true, but the stuff that Dimitri has would lay you out harder and faster than anything we have here." XIII gave the monk a small smile fitting for the moment. "And even if he warned them of the effects, I doubt they believed it. I hadn't when I tried it." 

He helped Charles in getting Twain back to his feet. When Charles asked about Zesiro and what was wrong, XIII frowned. "A lot of things, apparently. With the howls, the alarms, and lack of response from the control room, it's starting to sound like some cheap magic..." XIII's face contorted into a grimace. 

"Misdirection."

 He ran his hands through his hair. "Damn it! They're spreading us thin." XIII looked to Rozalind. "I could be completely wrong and paranoid here, but is there anything here that all this," he waved his hand through the air, "could hide it from being stolen or destroyed?"