His response to that final question was a shake of the head and what sounded like a drastic change in tone. "Have to? No. I don't. And I'm not going to. Creating that position was your idea and it turned out like this. My way was better, I'm sticking with it." While his voice wasn't raised and there was nothing overtly harsh in what he'd said, the words were still delivered firmly and with an easily discernable amount of anger and frustration. She was also being given no room to convince him otherwise, under a silent threat of being chastised if she did.

"He didn't have access to nearly as much as you think he did. But they've already been stripped of clearance and we've changed codes. Patrol routes and flight schedules were always on my file, not his. If I'd left it to him, he'd have told half of Liberty where and when to find us." While this could have been interpreted as a joke, he was being completely serious and the disgust on his face was easily observable by somebody with her talents.

He was quiet for what felt like an eternity after all that, but in reality it was only five minutes in which he seemed to be entirely lost in thought. "Thank you." Were the words which did end up breaking that prolonged silence, and they seemed sincere and even somewhat encumbered by hesitation.

But it seemed like now he was finished wallowing there in bed, and he pushed himself back up into a seated position and went even further by getting ready to try and stand. He was obviously pushing his luck, but then again that was what he always did. "Give me a hand, people need to see and hear from me." While this was hardly a responsible thing to do, it was most likely the right thing to do under the circumstances and if he was intent on maintaining an image of strength and dedication. With that in mind, he hoped she would just do as asked rather than try to argue again.

A nod and a smirk preceded his response. "Agreed." Even if he disagreed, it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter. He might be able to stand with assistance but that was a bit like being able to stomp down on the gas peddle while somebody else had the wheel. Sure, you were going somewhere but somebody else was dictating where that would be.

"Take me to the Alliance building. Lots of people are already there, and they all want answers." Even if there was a fair bit of pressure given that the number of people wanting to hear about what had happened, and more importantly hear the truth of it all, he didn't seem nervous. The only things he seemed to be feeling was fatigue and pain, which were quite likely just overpowering everything else.

The same surgeon which he'd kicked out of the room from before exclaimed in objection upon seeing him trying to leave. But one of the marines that had been standing outside the room followed in tow with the pair and deterred her or any of the infirmary staff from trying to intervene. This wasn't the time for bedrest.

There was a moment's hesitation as he glanced ahead at the elevator and then back at the main doors they had just crossed the threshold of. Once they were inside that metal box, the choice felt obvious to him and he gestured back at the main doors instead. "Back out there, the top of the stairs, that'll do for a podium. They need to know that I'm in this with them, not hiding behind a screen, relying on a teleprompter and comforted by a fancy chair." That was his definitive choice, even if there were risks besides the fact that his two feet were only just barely able to keep his weight off the ground.

"I have enough fuel in the tank to stand by myself for a few minutes. Long enough to say everything I need to say and for them to know the truth. Just help me get there, I'll do the rest. If I pass out, just put me on a stretcher and wheel me back." His commitment seemed genuine, to the point where he was willing to endure torturous amounts of pain for the sake of standing by his principles. And while this was the least comfortable of the approaches he could use in order to handle the situation, it was the one he knew was necessary.

"Nice of you to acknowledge my royal background. You'll have to carry me after the wedding too." It wasn't in his nature to not fire back with an equally comedic or sarcastic response, and especially not with her. And under the circumstances it helped lighten the mood and take some of the edge off when turning around to face all the people that had gathered and looked up at the pair expectantly.

For a few seconds he remained silent, making sure his legs were steadied and holding onto his partner's hand for idle comfort while he prepared himself for the agonizing exertion that would be speaking loud enough to be heard by this substantially sized crowd. "I did kill Vincent Abrams. Or at least I tried to." It was quite the way to begin addressing a small horde's worth of people, but he'd already made his choice and fully committed to this. "When the Order first told me he'd been reckless enough to cooperate with some manner of foul alien, I didn't want to believe it. And in that instant, I knew those of us that truly cared for him wouldn't want to believe it either. And I knew that if I chose to do nothing then his increasingly reckless and incoherent behavior would put everyone on Nome at risk, and soon enough maybe even everyone else clamoring for the LFR's founding. I expect some of you will judge me quite harshly for this. I know I would, if I was down there instead of up here. And honestly, I wish I was down there. There's nothing I'd have liked more, anything else except having to make the choice I did. To safeguard the lives and future liberties of the millions I swore to share our dream with, even if it meant killing a friend. Or to put him first but at the cost of all those people who have only ever known the inside of a cage." There was a moment when saying all of that where his voice cracked and revealed a deep seated sense of vulnerability, along with clearly audible pain that was both rooted in the physical sense and otherwise. The crowd themselves weren't quite sure to think, frozen in silence and understandably shocked to know that none of this was exaggerated, and what they'd heard was true, besides the Commander's death of course.

"Now you know. You know what I did, why I did it and why those four people wanted to kill me for it. All that's left is for you to decide if you want to make the same choice they did. I'm just here to face the music, so go ahead and play whatever tune you feel you need to in response to what I've done. The personal hell of living with the fact that I killed that kid, when all I wanted to do was protect him, is worse than anything else that could possibly happen to me." And with that he was finished, the silence making way for muttering and then the sound of rapidly shuffling feet as groups of people seemed to stir as if gauging the situation for themselves.

Eventually an entourage of people marched up those very same stairs, some of them members of other groups that vehemently opposed him and his policies. If Belle were to react defensively at the sight of that, Morreti would gesture in her direction to just let whatever was going to happen - happen. The approach of the posse would ultimately stop within an arm's length of him, both saying and doing nothing for the next few seconds. If anyone had a knife to spare, they'd be able to cut the tension with it. But just as this seemed to be going south in the worst way possible, one person from that gang of mixed personalities stepped forward and simply embraced the Commander, soon followed by the rest of his number.

Everyone else held their silence out of respect, and for once silence was deafening.