It's been well over half an hour since Cricket limped off toward the Nexus. He grimaces a little as he gets his feet, and pauses when Steve grips his shoulder, blinking up at him. "...it's a revolver. Weren't no shots left in it and I keep the extra bullets locked up in my trunk. Left it on the...bed, I think?"

He pauses, racking his brain, and then nods. "Yeah, on the foot of the bed. But it's empty. I know it's empty."

It's a good thought, though, and it sparks another vital piece of information in Cricket's brain. "But Harley has one, too. Hers is a semi-auto. Beretta. Got a lot more rounds in it. She's got a lock on it, too, but..."

But. If the man was less badly wounded than Cricket thought, there's a possibility he could have found it.