That brings Rumlow to a dead halt. At first he figures the guy's having a heart attack, or something close to it. What he says next clears his head of that notion, and his lips curl into a faint sneer. "What, you some kind of mind reader?" he countered, though casually enough to dismiss if the man was just speaking his hunches out loud.

And if he wasn't? If he did know what he was planning? Didn't much care for the idea of someone rifling through his thoughts. Being untrustworthy as a rule tended to make you not trust other people, too certain that they'd be every bit as likely to turn on you as you might be to turn on them.

Licking dry lips, he takes a step closer, fingers curling tight at his sides.