Harlow wasn't particularly concerned when the stranger made a grab for his weapons, looking ready for a fight. He had expected as much, really. The other boy had warned him of his presence with his singing, but Harlow was giving him no warning in return. Still, he didn't expect Mort to try to shoot. He didn't strike Harlow as someone who just shot a kid for the hell of it. Harlow knew there was always a possibility he was wrong-- he'd seen the road too, he knew what kinds of people were out there-- but he'd always liked living on the edge, anyway.
"No good," Harlow answered Mort easily, shifting up to press his boot against the railing he'd been sitting on, rising up to stand on it, hooking his fingertips around a bar along the bottom of the fire escape above his perch to help keep his balance. "What about you? Looks like you put a few through the grinder."