[Shiro doesn't reply immediately. Instead, he is busy inspecting the walls. Sliding his hand across the faux wood paneling, until he finds what he's looking for - a panel that, when compressed, slides away to reveal a communication interface.]

If the robots outside still work, maybe the ones in here do too.

[He can't exactly see Zarkon sweeping floors or doing dishes. There have to be servitors, long-dormant, that could at least assist them in driving away the oppressive dust.]

We can take one of the guest bedrooms downstairs.

[Speaking of dangerous, that phrasing makes him grimace the second it's out of his mouth. An amendment:]

I'll take the floor.

[He still wants them to stay together. This place has every nerve left in his body singing with tension and--

(fear. some. enough. he hates it.)

-- It doesn't matter. They won't be here long enough for it to matter.]