He hears, and he spins around, squaring for a fight before the identity of the voice filters through.

Then rage melts into surprise, as if he's the one who should be experiencing surprise right now. You know, that his compatriot isn't dead as a drowned doornail. Sinclair still being with us is totally the strangest thing about this situation.

"Mister Sinclair," he says, with the sharp relief of someone whose fuck-up might not be as big as he thought it was.