"I--" The flow of that sentence is lost in indecision, as Cecil decides both for and against grabbing for the tablet at the same time and ends up just making a frustrated sort of gesture in the air between them. He frowns.

"Well, of course!" he says, with a first hint of real impatience. He's leaning forward now, too, stuck between craning his neck to see what Enjolras is looking at and actually trying to answer his question. "And as a journalist, I have never strayed in my reporting from the municipally-approved truth. Nor would I!"

In Cecil's opinion, a little friendly debate over complicated political matters is a perfectly acceptable way to pass the time between bloody onscreen murders, but this is beginning to stray into territory he doesn't like. Everyone questions the actions of their government from time to time, of course, but to be told that Cecil's difference of opinion is a mark against his journalistic integrity--! He feels defensive, annoyed with Enjolras' seemingly willful misunderstanding of a system about which he, of the two of them, is certainly less informed.