"Someone pour that man a cup of coffee!" Comstock orders. Someone does. Being in the military is amazing ; you give orders, and things happen. Waterhouse does not drink, or even touch, the coffee, but at least it gives his eyes something to focus on. Those orbs wander around under their rumpled lids for a while, like ack-ack guns trying to track a house fly, before finally fixing on the white coffee mug. Waterhouse clears his throat at some length, as if preparing to speak, and the room goes silent. It remains silent for about thirty seconds. Then Waterhouse mumbles something that sounds like "coy."