The signal isn't even necessary. The Soldier is already through the curtains when the mook sweeps Gold's table clear, and a flesh hand on the man's neck, lifting him clear off the floor and snatching his gun away in the same motion, with the metal hand.

The Soldier is stronger than he looks, and even the flesh hand feels like metal around his neck. His expression is blankly determined. No one is going to threaten his new handler.