"Since, of course," Reborn picked up from Bianchi's line of thought with a shrug, as if he didn't really care much either way, simply stating a fact of life, "the discourteous actions which we have been subjected to from the moment of our arrival in this lovely city could not possibly stem from an organization-wide conspiracy of..." A delicate pause, "idiocy."

Though no one was rude enough (or stupid enough) to actually outright contradict him verbally, the room suddenly seemed less quiet, the subtle sounds and movements of outrage as loud as an actually spoken message to those who knew how to read the situation.

He took another sip from the near empty can of soda and tossed it behind him carelessly to clatter almost deafeningly in the corner of the room.

"But there are other ways in which you can - will," he corrected himself, his voice so soft as to be nearly inaudible, "will be making your amends to us."