When you've roamed around and unattached for fifteen years before finding stability, there are things you let lie; such as, not having complete control over the actions of others. People come and go. Everyone has their own terms. Still, there's a twinge of predatory analysis when it comes to having no idea who this guy really is apart from his actions, but in turn being contactable. But Logan has his scent, which is something.

And he's always been able to take care of himself. He listens to talk of traps, changeable gameplay, the probable response of the Militia being peeking insight into how they might think. It makes sense, that soldiers stupid enough to get caught would be made into fodder. It makes sense that it won't happen again, on their terms.

His chin dips in at a nod. "You do that," he says, wry in a way that isn't actually dismissive. Something in stance, eye contact.