There is a part of him that does appreciate not being asked to leave, even if he hasn't said anything to merit it. The pack mentality he doesn't want to acknowledge is rearing its head again, telling him to smooth things over, but he lets himself be just self-indulgently angry enough to push it aside.

Not quite so angry as to stomp away without further ado, though. He pauses in the doorway as he goes.

"Let me know if you need a hand with the gun rack." He crushes his cigarette butt underfoot on the ground outside, and leaves.