Ben ascended the steps to the gallery following the others. Once he was through the doors, he reached into his coat, and drew his plasma pistol. He looked down at the weapon, and flipped his thumb along the safety, and the gun hummed to light, emitting a faint glow. 

Ben looked at each thing, but barely red the tags, not paying much attention to them. He looked at each banner, trying to commit them to memory, finding that he'd remember the general details. 

Ben reached up over his shoulder and touched the handle of his machete, finding comfort in it's existence and general ability to take anything's limb off. The psyker said something about corruption. Makes sense. "[color=aba000]No guards. This is the kinda place that doesn't report to the police. Handle's their issues in house.[/color]" Ben said, scanning around the room, walking slowly, pistol in hand.