He's already used to being disdained by rich men in expensive suits who write off his skills because of his age, or just write him off entirely because he's a white trash nobody. He doesn't let it get to him, or at least doesn't let it show when it does.

Hiding his reactions unless they're useful is a skill Moreau the Younger clearly needs some work on, based on the way he starts at the slam of his old man's fist on the pricey wood of his desk. On the way he squares his shoulders and stands at forced ease, to try and compensate for the slip. He wonders if the kid thinks he's actually accomplishing anything by flinging his hatred in his old man's face, or if he's just so angry and frustrated he doesn't care... until he does, and Eliot notes the forced dutifulness, resigns himself to getting the cold shoulder from his new assignment, and turns to his employer to take his leave.

"Thank you for your time, sir. Once I've got the lay of the place and the rest of the staff, I'll be starting on those upgrades and changes I outlined for you." He nods to the schematics abandoned on the desk before turning his attention back to Moreau the Younger and inclining his head slightly. It's not respect, or disrespect, it's just acknowledgment and waiting.