Lift one shoulder and drop it, keep your face expressionless, show nothing.
“I asked you the boy’s name, isn’t he a friend of yours? Aren’t you worried about him?” Officer Hound was living up to his nickname, big, sad brown eyes, and a determination like a dog with a bone. He wasn’t ever going to let this go.
“It ain’t my business. He likes it alone.”
“Isn’t your business,” the cop automatically corrected.