[ Oh, he's heard the stories. He's seen the warning and if that wasn't enough, the aftermath of Charles and Charlie told him as much the story. He doesn't raise his hand from his knife though he doesn't draw it either. But nor does he seem to heed that warning either as Beckett draws into the fire station. If anything, something about it makes him boil. ]

To some, yeah. You made that pretty damn clear after what you did to those two. How many more people are you gonna hurt, huh?

[ The rational part of him would be arguing that it's not like he has a choice in this. His tablet's already begun to flash. He's been following what he thought were his friends in a wild goose chase. There's no other building he knows close enough nearby. He'd freeze to death before he'd ever find shelter elsewhere.

But somehow that argument's lost in the sheer heat of his detesting words. It has him clutching the grip of his butcher knife tighter as he slips into the fire station. He closes the door behind him, keeping his tablet held up so he can see. ] Well, Beckett?