Swamped

"Hey. Were you at the hospital earlier?"

He doesn't show any sign of a response. So you decide to get a little more specific.

"There were some military types hanging out there. One of them was watching the emergency exit, but he said something about leaving it to Long for a little while. Was that you?"

You don't know how else to explain that you knew he was there.

"Don't know. 'Military type' is pretty vague," he says, shrugging slightly.

"The guy I'm talking about had a scar on his cheek." You trace it out on your own cheek to see how he responds.

"Ah! Burgundy. Now that I think about it, he said there was someone in purple who he thought was a little suspicious, but probably not who he was looking for." He glances you over. "I didn't think much of it, but maybe he meant you."

"Hold on," the leader interjects. "What do you mean, not who he was looking for?"

"Oh, my apologies. I think he didn't want me talking about that." There's a bit of a sly smile on Long's face.

You think that didn't quite work out. He basically turned your own ploy around on you and now you're the center of this conversation. You're going to have to think carefully about where to take things from here.