It had occurred to him that lurking directly across the street from the suspicious warehouse might be suspicious in turn, so by the time Kit's found him he's retreated around a corner, out of (what he presumes is) direct sight of the guard. Not that the fellow seems liable to notice anything around him short of a druffalo stampede with how engrossed he is in a grimy, much-folded quarterly.

"Hey," Myr echoes the greeting. "Glad you're here."

There's a glyph gleaming dimly at the corner of the wall beside him, and he nods toward it--and by extension the warehouse--before adding in an undertone, "Because I think we've got to get in there and damned if I have any idea how to do it."