"I have come," Phantom Thief Genius proclaims, completely ignoring that outstretched hand - even ignoring what sounds almost like Prench, a language they hadn't thought anyone here would have the class or cosmopolitanism to speak - "to steal the prayers of those troubled by these ruffians! You."

An accusatory, dramatic finger is leveled at Tristepan. He could probably shake it instead of Genius's hand if he really wanted, but that's not why it's being offered. "Are you here on a divine mission?"