There is no way this pooka is going to give up his weapon -- no, he's waited long enough for Snow to reach his flailing safe-zone and now he'll just shove that sucker down the front of his shirt and make a mad scramble up the ladder, legs occasionally missing a rung in his haste to get the hell away.
"Look, I said I'd get you a vending machine if I saw one, alright? I'll go looking once everyone is on the roof and we've destroyed this thing." Merrick is breathing heavily but no longer sounding as paniced; arguement is good for the soul.