There have been worse reactions. Ishiah has known the lengths to which the guilty will go, how easily they'll shine a blade or do anything to put faith and religion out of sight. He knows derision, too, the sneer of those who don't believe simply because they've never been given a reason, because most people need reasons to turn to anything beyond what they can concretely sense. It's hard to convince a person to put faith in chance, for instance, and putting faith in an invisible creator is much of the same thing. Effy doesn't fall into either category, not by far, her expression carrying surprise.

"I'm serious," he replies, trying to read the rest of her expression, the swirling that he can almost see behind her eyes. What is she thinking? What does faith mean to her?

Idle curiosities, for the most part. She doesn't matter overly much to him, isn't a close friend or anything of that sort, but she is a human, and she is a child, and both of those are reasons enough for him to care.