Shane froze, looking properly put in his place, as Ahsoka headed for the trash recepticle. Up until that point, Warp had been the only person he knew who had told him, perhaps in a not-so-polite way, not to ask about such things. He understood what killing was, and he understood not having a family, or too many friends. And now he understood that he didn't know what real war was, and probably never would.
If he could've burned holes in the wall with his stare, he would've. He was frustrated, with himself more than anything else, and he guessed it was more than obvious to anyone else in the room as he followed Ahsoka's example, from a distance and disposed of his trash and place the rest of the items on his tray in the wash bin.
"Sorry." It sounded strange, but he thought it was called for at this point. It felt strange too. Maybe because he didn't think he was sorry.