“[b]We?[/b]” The question hung in the air like an accusation, which is was, the slightly robotic tone signalling that it clearly came from within the beaked helmet now looking directly at the dirtied psyker and then the Celestian beside her, “[b]we[/b] did not such thing.”

Until the explosion had happened the Deathwatch marine had been near-completely still, his senses on high alert and his sidearm held ready at his side, the explosion doing nothing but showering him with a little dirt and fragments of what had been the Imperial gun emplacement. None of this really mattered, not even as the two got to their feet and the rest of the group prepared to move out, but something about the witches last comment had caused a reaction within the Astartes.

In one fluid motion he moved to stand before the previously grounded pair, his visor sweeping once more from one to the other, before settling on Aviza.

“Sister, I have so far held my tongue, and due to my allegiance to the Emperor's holy Inquisition I would not question your orders.” Even now he could smell a thousand differing scents, his beaked helmet only amplifying them, and the Greenskins were certainly on the move, “but the plan was foolhardy from the very beginning; our gunfire could well have been covered by the thunderstorm around us, a fortuitous sign to my own people if no-one else, but this...this...” One gauntleted fist raised itself, a finger extending to point at Adrienne even though he did not turn to look at her, “her actions are laughable at best and absurd at the worst, she is volatile and unstable and [b]this[/b],” he emphasised with a nod of his head toward the twisted wreckage, “was both unnecessary and the action that will bring the Greenskins down upon us, not [b]we[/b] but [b]you[/b].”

Only now did he look to the psyker, taking a slight step toward her and then freezing, studying her for a moment before straightening up, “my own progenitor argued with the Emperor himself to save our Librarians from disbandment during the Crusade, and my own people view the Stormseers with reverence, but you Adrianne Valenthin, you stay away from me.” With the same fluid motions he made the sign of the Aquila across his chest, not easy when one is holding a pistol the size of a man's head in your hand, and half turned away, “there are a dozen vehicles [i]at least[/i] heading in our direction, and the idea of bypassing them does appeal. In my hearts and in my blood though, I would prefer to face them in combat.”

Glancing back at the Celestian he gave a shrug, a curiously human gesture for a Space Marine to make, “the decision goes to you, Sister-Celestian Norea.”

Without another word, his footfall muffled both by his armour and the rainstorm around them, he stepped out of the building and past the group of smaller figures, already putting the psyker from his thoughts and focusing more on the threat approaching them at high speed.

How he wished once more that he had his bike.