Cricket is so very, very used to dealing with things on is own, is the thing. Had Steve just taken the wounded man and headed back to the Plaza, leaving him alone, Cricket would have quietly boarded everything back up, swept and cleaned, and probably hidden under Harley's bed for the duration of the storm. Or at least until she or one of the Lokis came back for him.

He feels cold right now, a little too calm, like the part of his brain that tells him to move and speak is functional, but the rest is locked up and silent, emotions more or less flatlined.

He's pretty lucky to have someone looking out for him, and the way he's shadowing Steve is instinctive, rather than deliberate, but he seems to feel some relief from his presence.

"That happened to Forrest," he says a little vaguely. "When he got his throat cut. It was cold. Doctors said he mighta bled out otherwise."

The gauntlets make him wary all over again, and he sidles closer to Steve, until they're practically in contact. "What'chu gonna do?"