Good. He's got questions that need answers, but he's not sure he wants this to be the place he hangs around, though. Who knew how long those doors would stay unlocked. Lester, without any sort or warning or pretense, grabs the younger man by the back of his forearm to lead him out of the room, get a bit of help with his balance, and make sure he doesn't go anywhere.

"Is there somewhere we can go?" He's not been here for long and doesn't know his way around so good, but anywhere they could talk should work. Definitely the only thing on his mind is talking. Keeping his hold on him, he drapes his other arm over Francis' shoulders.

"It's funny. You sort of look like Barton, but younger--like the girl, Bishop. Are they just giving anyone with half decent aim the name Hawkeye these days? But I like you, kid. You're not afraid to get your hands dirty. It already sets you apart from the lot of them. And I can't hold that shit against you. I was Hawkeye for a little bit in my day."