He takes stock of the situation. Soldat is cowering, looking for cover in the nearest safe place even though there's logically no threat. The explosions bringing back waking nightmares aren't new to him in concept and rather than ask what he can do, he simply does.

With a muttered "Silent" and a snap of his fingers, a faintly blue-tinted bubble emerges, centered on his hand, which then expands to fill the room. The explosions, the chatter and oohs and aaws, all sound outside the church itself ceases. Rosinante sits on top of a pew with his feet on the seat and looks toward the altar, rather than staring at Soldat.

"Better?"