"It isn't," Hiro clarified, after a pause to collect his thoughts and decide how much information he could share. "But someone seems to think it is, or that it should be." If he sounded a little wary about the prospect, well... it was only because he was.

Talking about it should be okay, though. The fact that he'd enrolled--been enrolled--in psych classes wasn't classified, nor would it be difficult for anyone to discover that he'd been running a few debriefing missions on the side, if they knew whom to ask (and he was sure that Ginta did). Hiro even had the uncomfortable feeling that Kotoe-san would approve of him talking about it, the discussion itself being yet another factor that would lock him into her preferred course of action.

Still, he didn't see any particular reason not to talk about it, if he knew all that. Maybe Ginta would have some insight.

Though he hadn't missed the brief flicker of pain in Ginta's eyes earlier; how they'd flashed out to the hallway for just an instant, unfocused, before they recentered on the pork bun and the here-and-now. If he wasn't mistaken, the angle of Ginta's glance had lined up surpisingly well with another quite occupied--and relevant--ICU room across the hallway.

Interesting, Hiro thought, and made a mental note for later. There was clearly something going on there, too.

First things first though: Hiro reached over and snagged one of the pork buns from the near-overflowing paper bag. Ginta's blissful appreciation of them was making him hungry. He'd made certain to buy plenty for both of them--and as it happened, he liked ginger too.

"It wasn't Intel I found out from, though--I was here to give a debriefing a few days ago, and I saw your grandmother as I was leaving." Silent, composed, and endlessly weary; she'd seemed like an impressive woman. "I would have come back earlier, to visit you, but, well... they had me kind of tied up."