Jim nodded once, accepting the directive-- and then he gave a faint smile. "I wasn't frightened. I've seen worse."

But as he was standing, he headed back to his bedroom and started changing into his tac suit. It was a garment he was very used to, and he pulled it on with knowing hands. Boots, pants covered in holsters, the one-sleeved that left his metal arm bare except for a fingerless glove. Once it was on, he went about arming himself, putting blades in their sheathes, guns in their holsters, and then strapped on the makeshift mask and goggles he'd put together while he'd been on the run.

His hair was just enough too clean to make him convincing, but it did look like a completely different man stepped out of the room that Jim Rogers had entered.