If Sitwell had ever been shocked about the Director rounding on him in anger, he had long grown out of it and waited patiently for the Director to decide to either insult him or engage in this conversation. It was an even split.
What he didn't anticipate was the overshare, which had him tucking his chin against his chest to mutter, "Oh, yuck," feeling like the topic and possibly conversation or eye contact at all for the rest of this trip had just been callously ruined. It would be really nice if anyone at all were here right now. "Okay," he squeaked, bringing the binoculars back up to refocus on the immobile landscape.