Morgand had hoped he wouldn't have to intervene. But duty called, in a clear voice no less, shouting about rather innocuous ideas of liberty and criticism for the government. These were hardly the most egregious of views to present in public (at least those Morgand had paid attention to). Regardless, Morgand viewed himself as a man of tired compassion if nothing else, and so he decided to move them along before anything more came of it; no harm, no foul.
Half-stood half-slumped against the wall, he placed his hands on his knees and shook his head vigorously, dislodging his grogginess, before pushing of the stonework and making his way across the street. His path deviated greatly from how straight the crow flies, meandering one way then the other, as he came up behind the crowd stumbling. At last he squinted up at the pair on high, a well-off looking enthusiastic lady and what seemed to be her long suffering accomplice.
As Morgand shouldered his way into the gathering crowd, the man caught his eye. All things considered, he was a rather handsome gent in Morgand's opinion; dark hair, slender frame, jaw shadowed with bristle, brown eyes... Yes, all things considered, the middle-aged, portly, and mean-looking geezer looked on the man with jealousy. He was just Lorrita's type and Morgand knew it, remembering something his wife had said a few days prior, completely missing the fact Arcturus was basically a younger and better-looking version of himself. He was so focused on this he filtered out much of the nearly treasonous monologue.
He braced himself for the drawn out and boring process of shooing away the vocal miss and the gentleman along. But in his groggy state, and needing something more entertaining to start him off, he instead decided it best he add a bit of theatrics to the whole ordeal. Now in the middle of the crowd he called out in interruption, pulling his cloak close to hide his uniform, however clumsy and useless it was.
He laid on his accent to be extra thick, and said "Aye'n that's all well'n'good missus, but wot'n'abow the Church an' City Watch, eh? Thas Connlaoth heritage thar', an our way of havin' a peaceful existence! Whose gunna be watchful of the rogue magicians! The foreign agents an' T'rrible Beasties if'n not the gubberment?"
Morgand thought that if he could in some small way rile the crowd, make the speakers uncomfortable with a bit of push back, then when tensions were highest he could swoop in and let the people know that it was the City Watch kept the peace. This was an opportunity to turn an annoying civil disruption into a proper promotion earning spectacle. Morgand moved slowly through the crowd, towards the front, thinking what voice to use next, and thinking also that he must be the cleverest and most devilish man in all of Reajh to even think of pulling this off.
If that were true, then there wouldn't be half as many manipulative villains in power as there currently were. Which would probably mean even the CFA would have less to complain about. Alas, Morgand was many things but he was far from the sharpest tool (though he could certainly be a tool) and was in fact as blunt as the mace he carried on his belt.