Mr.

“The professor can be a touch off-putting, I know,” Baron said. He took one of Collingswood’s cigarettes.
“The way he was talking,” Billy said. “About the squid people. It was like he was one of them.”
“You’ve put your finger on it,” Baron said. “It is just like he’s one of them. He has a little revelation.”
“Takes one to know one,” said Collingswood. “Oh yeah.”
“What?” said Billy. “He was one of…?”
“Man of faith,” Baron said. “Grew up one of your ultra-born-agains. Creationist, literalist. His dad was an elder. He was in it for years. Lost his faith but not his interest, lucky for us, and not his nous, neither. Every group we look at, he gets it like a convert”-Baron thumped his chest-“because for a moment or two he is.”
“It’s more than that,” Collingswood said. “He don’t just get it,” she said. She grinned smoke at Billy. She put her hand to her lips, as if she were whispering, though she was not. “He misses it. He’s miserable. He didn’t used to have to put up with none of this random reality cack. He’s pissed off with the world for being all godless and pointless, get me? He’d go back to his old faith tomorrow if he could. But he’s too smart now.”
“That’s his cross to bear,” said Baron. “Boom-boom! I thank you.”
“He knows religion is bollocks,” Collingswood said. “He just wishes he didn’t. That’s why he understands the nutters. That’s why he hunts them. He misses pure faith. He’s jealous.”
― China Mieville, Kraken