Roy stood there for a few seconds, his hand still grasping Sergamon, as he analyzed him even more. If Sergamon was diligent enough, he would notice Roy's right eyebrow being raised ever so slightly over his sunglasses. Finally he spoke again.

"No need to close everyone out. I'll understand if you're paranoid and cynical, but in order for us to work properly as a squad, we need you at least pretend you're a part of it. Now what's your name and where you from?"

He let go of the man's hands and folded his arms to his chest, cocking his head to the side as he waited for the response.

"I wouldn't advise that. It would put a flag on your history. Not many people would prefer to work with a team killer. Even less would want to work with a team killer who does it outside of professional reasons. Like I'm saying Draco. Buddy. It isn't worth it to lose your grapes over these people right now. For all it's worth, some of them might actually be better people once we get into our natural element out there on the battlefield. Not that I expect that but what I do expect is for my contracts to come in a lot less frequently."

Roy let go of Sergamon's shoulders and proceeded to take his helmet back off to present his rather sharply made, black face to the immortal merc. His black eyes would stare into Sergamon's own, intensely.

"If you really need a release. Punch me right in the face. I mean, this is my money-maker but for you, you can punch me in the face as hard as you want."

He stood there with his arms opened, gesturing Sergamon to follow through with a nod.

Despite the fact that he could be pretty self-absorbed, Roy in general was a nice person. He was born that way, and it was futile to shake it away as that is what made him, him. His feelings.

As he stood there waiting, he couldn't help but have flashbacks to his days as a child. He was bullied all the way to his last days of public education. He was used to enduring pain. He thought it made him stronger than his attackers. He wasn't afraid to take a punch of two if there was a need for it.

"Excuse me, I will return shortly."

The Templar bows to the other two men apologetically, and rises, following the man out of the chapel and into one of the halls. Understandably he is suspicious of the man, and the Gallentean and Templar had clash on and off the battlefield many times. But as a Temple Knight it was his duty to protect the peace of any of his God's shrines.

Rather than decline and risk Sergamon's wrath it was better to hear him out.

The Code of Demeanor rang fresh in his mind.

Be Careful.
Be Watchful.
Be Respectful.

"What can I do for you?" He asked curiously, maintaining a respectful distance between the two of them, helmet clasped at his waist , face bare save for the re-breather unit, and rising up to his full height, looking down on the man below with a certain imperious stare.