He’s used to interviews, not that this is anything like that. Shiro had been happy to talk about his accomplishments. That had been fun, entertaining because he’d done something he was proud of. Saving the universe was certainly something to be proud of, but not if it involves this much digging. Interrogation in a way that makes him think there are no right answers and threaten to pull him back to other less pleasant questionings. “To be fair, they want the whole story. And certain people can only vouch for some things. I watched the trials, you were the one who actually did them. Hunk had first contact with the Balmerans.”
It’s an attempt to justify things. Make it seem like it’s the right thing to do by staying and answering things that make right shoulder ache and he ends up dropping the water bottle. Jumps at the sound, glaring at the offending object. “You wanna steal my car on the way again? I think I got something that hovers this time.” Maybe leaving for the day isn’t a horrible idea. He likes to think they have some sort of control given they’re the ones with all the information.
Shiro’s not wrong ; the information’s fragmented among them, pieces to be reunited and adhered once more for a more comprehensive picture, but there’s forever the question of how much more they need to give. More, the answer’s always a nonnegotiable more, and with little regard to how much they wish to ( much less can ) give. So it seals his lips into something of a thinly pressed line as the other speaks, thinner still ( and they’ll only part to allow pass a jumble of a response, ever graceful between them ). “But that still doesn’t change anything, Shiro. They need to just --- back off ---- of everyone ----”
Keith starts at the thwump of the fallen bottle, jolted and snapped to the every more important but ever so foolish snap decision before them, and the wall restraining him crumbling ever the quicker. If it were sturdy to begin with ( it wasn’t ). And at Shiro’s suggestion what had once been weighing on his lips turns them upward, into something conspiratorial, and he’s leaning forward, forward ( as though he could jump to his feet at a moment’s assent ).
“It’s not stealing if I have permission.” Yes.