It's a good enough excuse, as excuses go. He doesn't seem to carry any judgement in his gaze or his posture at least, and after just another brief couple of seconds of scrutiny his eyes drop and he moves across the cellar toward the far wall. Toward the ceiling are some unused shelves, sturdy and thick.

"I think if that thing gets in it's not gonna matter if we're down here or up there," is his dark reply, just before securing his hands around the blank and forcibly ripping it from the wall. It only takes two firm jerks before it detaches, dust falling and splinters coating the shelf beneath it. Mission accomplished, he tucks it under a metal arm and turns toward the other occupant again. "Doesn't matter anyway. It's not gonna get a foot in."