Whether he agrees or not with what Kimblee preaches, he's careful to measure his expression and not give anything away, nor does he show any outward sign of intimidation at the suggestion of becoming just another body on the pile of the Crimson Alchemist's war crimes.
Better to remain stoic, unshaken, and professional, he thinks. Not like someone who's going to fold, the moment someone else flashes their teeth.
(And a man like this, flashing his fangs, is more than just a smile, certainly not of comradery, and not purely a warning if he fails to meet expectations. Among beasts, there is nothing friendly about showing teeth.)
That does not necessarily mean to remain aloof, though.
A man like this, by his own admission, has pride. An ego to appeal to. Staying on the right side of that would ultimately be better for his health, but he's no fool to think that doing so will actually be easy.
More like trying to balance across a knife's edge on bare feet. Even the slightest slip could draw blood, and just a drop of red might be all it takes to turn a shark like this from lazily, passively circling, to rushing in for the kill.
It won't take much of a misstep, he thinks, for Kimblee to make good on his threat to turn him into just more collateral. He can't forget that at any given moment.
But he can carefully maneuver, in the meantime, so he knows which way to juke when the shark eventually lunges, and keep a hand ready to redirect where those fangs point.
"Well, it is a long way there," he responds, falling into step easily, with a sort of lightness to his movements that feigns not being concerned at all with the sort of threat Kimblee realistically poses. Whether the man takes that for arrogance or ignorance, he'll just let Kimblee come to his own conclusions and adjust accordingly for whatever behavior serves best to hide as far as he can in his blind-spots. "It'll pass the time. Plus, you are my senior with lots of field experience. I'm sure you have a lot you can teach me."
