Thankfully, he has the alien's complete attention when he conjures up that orb of light. Any cultural missteps or sore, irritated wounds are forgotten as Glacius' eyes light up, and he looks to the clergyman's face with with a mixture of apprehension and eagerness.

"I can--I can hold it? Just like the lights of my people..." he murmurs-- never mind the fact hat Carlisle has already told him that this conjuration is nothing as sacred as the Mote. The otherworldly being accepts the orb readily, cradling it in both of his great big hands as is he's handling a sacred treasure. Sure enough, the light remains, instead of dimming when separated from its source... Glacius considers it almost tenderly for a moment more, then holds it up to the ruined side of his face so that Carlisle can see the mess of scar tissue and cuts the injury has become.