[Again, he isn't sure what to say or do or how to react, and it takes all the restraint in him to prevent his eyes from straying back to the door, in search of some kind of escape route. This isn't how he'd thought this particular assignment would go and as such he feels unmoored, cut adrift. Concerned.

But he's being spoken to (albeit with too much familiarity) and so he should answer, shouldn't he? His voice, when it comes, is perfectly measured. careful. A little suspicious.]

What I mean is...I don't see what this has to do with me. Why you're saying this to me. Sir. I'm just your guard dog for the day. I'm not...my opinion is irrelevant.