Already outside and clearly mid-patrol, Lance is standing still in the center of the road, holding his lantern and listening.

He's been thankful for the added relief Lorne's return has provided to both himself and Deron, and there's a warmth in his eyes (the only visible section of his face) when the lad approaches.
"Came from up the mountain," he says in his low, quiet voice, "sound carried on the wind, but it's not here." A pause. "...not yet."