(Okay, this time there's no mistaking the tone. But it's not as if a guy alone on the floor looking sick during a city bombing has no reason to be a little cranky. He's not going to take that personally just yet. Instead, he waits a few minutes silently before replying. Still tonelessly, and more in the direction of the wall that's straight acros from them, which he's taken to staring at instead.)

No.

(And then, as an afterthought, or maybe another reflex, he apologizes. Because it's easier than arguing with a miserable underclassman in the ugly underground of this ugly, ruined city.)

Sorry.