Bryant smiled ruefully, and nodded. "I may end up checking out that alley if I can't sleep," he paused, looked at his host again, "thank you once again for your hospitality, your respect and consideration will be paid in kind." He shook the man's hand and walked back down the corridor to the guest room.
Once inside, he stripped off his shirt, and his body armor, checked the bruising along his ribs from the shots a gunman had got in on him at Washington Rec. He stretched out his ribcage, then watched as the diagnostics and calibration sequence scrolled through his field of vision, ensuring that his limbs hadn't sustained any significant damage or any other associated issues. He sat down at the table, and clicked on the bedside lamp, and drew out his weapons, one by one, stripping and field cleaning them to prepare for the inevitable.
He ran through his options, he hadn't lied when he spoke to Vlad. The lack of information on his opponents was what had them on the defensive, and he couldn't formulate a plan of action without knowing in what direction he needed to move. He sighed, put his head back against the wall, and listened for sounds of movement from across the hall.
He didn't know what he felt for Rowe, guilt certainly, a sense of obligation, but he didn't want to explore those feelings too deeply. He needed to conclude business first, and she was a part of that. Anything else, he'd need time to discover, and she'd need time to adjust to her new life.
As his thoughts drifted down those roads, he drifted off to sleep still seated, head resting against the wall, facing the doorway to the corridor.