"Let 'em come," Mort said cockily, giving an easy shrug. Mort wasn't actively seeking death, but if it should come for him... Going out while surrounded by a mass of them seemed a rather excellent way to go. He carried a grenade around, just so he could go our with a bang. He had nothing left to lose anyway, save for his life. And, as of today, a snazzy hat. "I'll be the Sundance kid for whom the bell tolls."
Mort gave Harlow a sideglance. There was something vulnerable about the boy, right below the surface. Hope, naivete, something that had been stamped out of Mort. "You're lucky then," Mort said with an easy chuckle, which seemed to suggest he didn't consider Harlow lucky at all. Nothing could be farther from the truth, though. "My home's gone. Tumbleweed, and all we are is dust in the wind."
Mort didn't ask about Harlow's 'bunch of friends'. He knew better not to. "You from these parts originally?"