He staggers back to his feet as Warren moves closer, but the chair doesn't shove back as far as he likes so the gap is very much smaller than he was hoping; especially when Kepler moves closer and every hair on the back of Eiffel's neck is on end with the sheer primal terror that he is going to get his throat ripped out.

The only reason he hasn't dropped eye contact since he stood up is because he's sure that'll happen if he does.

"Sir, yes sir." There's nothing even remotely within the realm of defensive or anxious in his tone now; he was given an order, and a threat, and he's not so stupid that he's going to give Kepler, right here and now, any damn cheek.