A room packed full of powerful presences, including a fair few unfamiliar to Souta and several all the more potentially problematic for their familiarity, bid him keep his tongue.  He did not, of course, put blind trust in the angels, but what were Lily and Fenn going to do?  Though the agents' consensus had been but a short time ago, he already felt unsure as to what they intended.  It would appear, based on the demons' obstinate refusal to part with their orb, that there was no plan to enter the Jungle Tabernacle and secure the seal.  How then, one might ask, could the seal be placed under the Charred Council's protection?  The smith had no idea, but he did know that his voice mattered not at all among this lot.  Anything he might say could easily strengthen the tension filling the air, which was already fit to burst.  

No small part of this escalation rested on the shoulders of the one other human-looking being present aside from him and Akoni: a white-haired guy who in the span of moments had managed to establish himself as a prick of preternatural proportions.  As any Japanese man with a shred of propriety might be, Souta was affronted by his utter rudeness on a personal level.  He felt as though this man shamed his race before the angels; though all parties present might not agree, common courtesy demanded at least a little respect and self-composure.  

Any second now this powderkeg could erupt into bloody conflict, which -it occurred to Souta- might be what Henry and his demon allies wanted.  Wrath, at least, was trying to mitigate the situation, but Souta felt sure that angelic pride and demonic rebelliousness could not coexist for long.  Wearing a nervous expression, Souta flicked his eyes between all the major players present.  [i]We can't start fighting now.  We have a real problem on our hands, and Sevrin could appear any moment.  If a brawl starts, it'll play right into that bastard's hands.[/i]