Montana's ascension of the stairs was not weighted down by what he left behind. Nor did he feel vindicated by Oren ultimately being spared by Dawn. Rather, he had reached a point of understanding questioning her further was useless. In reality, he cared not if she lived or died in that basement, and the burden he felt in regard to her well being was non existent, as was any anger that their position would be relayed back to Erubesco upon the prisoners likely release. Tactical did not always intersect with ethical, and the Wanderers would always relent to a more ethical approach when they could. 

Without that small bit of compassion, they wouldn't be who they were, and Montana knew he'd likely have no desire to follow them.

Stepping out into the air, crisp against his ageless skin, he heard the voice of Eld question an arrival. Headhunter, a mercenary. Much like prostitutes, mercenaries maintained a certain neutrality that allowed them to walk in certain circles with he foreknowledge that if resource wasn't involved, there would be no action. The understanding that they could be bought created an air of safety among those who could afford.

However, the Wanderers were a strictly voluntary group. Which left an air of ambiguity to this far from chance meeting.

Montana was interested in his angle, and there was simply no better way to gauge that than letting him talk.

Like the mercs namesake, he appeared beside Eld. 

Unlike Eld, he chose to stay silent, offering Specter little more than a nod that said, continue, by all means.