Mort's hands were faster than his mind. The left let the bat swing up, a defensive gesture, while the right was on his shotgun instantly. The dead did not ambush, true, but the living did, and sometimes, the living were the greater threats. The Road had been a stern master in that regard.
When Mort's sharp eyes found the one who had called out to him, they found a skinny, pale boy, hiding in the darkness. Not a threat. Well, not an immediate threat. Mort lowered the bat, but his hand did not leave the gun just yet. There was nothing wary about the grin he granted Harlow, though. "Yeah? You think so?" He gave Harlow a little nod. "Just got it. I think it snazzy. What'chou up to?"