Bastille had his disagreements with Roy (though he seemed to have gotten over them in the wake of Maes' death), but that didn't mean he wanted the guy to suffer. Well, okay, sometimes he'd like to throw something at Roy's head just to knock that smug look off his face, but that was... different. Besides, Bast the shithead Fireball could probably get away with that; Bast their goddamn Seraph was meant to lead by example and be a good person and treat his members with respect and all of the other shitty ass little buzz words that people always threw around. Call him crazy, but he had a feeling that the Ascendants would frown up their leader throwing books at people -- even if it was Roy.

He did not, however, have any sense of amusement or satisfaction from seeing Roy sprawled out with a missing leg and blood everywhere. The bengal had appeared a few paces behind Rad, his teleportation kicking in once he realized everyone was rushing... somewhere. He hadn't expected this, and his blank stare passed over the Guardian swiftly. "Fuck, Roy," he said, taking in the damage. Whatever Rad had given him to try this time seemed to mute his senses more than normal, and he barely felt a blimp of shock or horror as he surveyed the situation. "You really put some dedication into the phrase 'break a leg', don't you?"

He was going to Hell, that was for fucking sure.