Not coming after Will after fully disposing of the militia man is a good sign, probably. Hopefully. Talking is even better. “I was keeping tabs on him,” he says after a moment. “I guess he didn't like it.” His training is good enough to keep him from fidgeting or shifting his weight around like a frightened rookie, but it still takes a conscious decision to not take a step back as he straightens up slowly.

His shirt is soaked through, sticking damply to his skin. He doesn't look at it. It'll probably hurt, once he comes down off the adrenaline high, but at the moment it's not his number one concern.