From this distance it was easier to function, it made it easier to think and revert back to the soldier that Karl Whedon was. The god of Industrial Warfare.
He glanced at the key once before pocketing it, nodding at her instructions, the side of him that raised a brow at being in a hotel room having been shut-down at this point. This seemed better than sitting around in his own motel room to wait for news at the drop-off. Hopefully, it was the best to operate this way.