She had told him to shut up. The redhead, Hart, had told him to shut up. No one ever did that. He wasn't mad though. He was confused. Confused that he wasn't mad. God what was being a good guy doing to him. He snapped back to reality at the sound of the woman's voice. He quickly ran to his room and got dressed, putting on a red t-shirt that had enough kevlar to stop a small caliber bullet, and black skinny jeans, outfitted with two holsters, one that was already filled with a curved hunting knife. He then grabbed his revolver from under his pillow and started towards the hangar. Maybe his outfit wasn't that orthodox but it worked for him.