[He has the rifle slung and stowed. Honestly, he'd rather his shield. Any shield, at this late hour. But he's not fool enough to go anywhere undefended, either. Still, he marks that look of disdain with a faint 'what can you do' quirk to his brow.
He shifts his weight to the balls of his feet and nods.]
no subject
He shifts his weight to the balls of his feet and nods.]
I'll let you set the pace.