With his rifle strapped to his back, and his silenced pistol resting comfortably in a holster on his hip,  the reinforced leather clad man, with biker goggles and a black fedora, gives a firm nod of his head towards Reilly, in greeting.<br/><br/>As she speaks to them, he would cast glances around, looking over people and places; nothing was familiar here. Nothing familiar on the way out here, either. But, in truth, he had not expected anything to happen; he's already made peace with the fact that he'll never know who he was, or where he came from.<br/><br/>Nobody here seemed to recognize him, which was both good and bad; bad for the obvious reason, but good also, because if someone did recognize him, they could be hostile.<br/><br/>"You said 'too'. Does that mean we're not the only group you've sent out?" His voice, gravelly, though not parched, seemed to possess no distinct accent that might place him.