"Hell with what I should or shouldn't do," Mort said, shaking his head as he walked over and set the bottle on the shelf by the towels the kid had found with the crinkly thump of cheap plastic. He made a point of not looking at the mess on the floor. Yeah, he'd have to grab his crowbar and clean it up sooner or later, but that could wait. "You saved my ass just now, no matter what you might be thinking. So I think that means you deserve a drink and water's all I got."
Deciding to give the kid a few moments to clean up and collect himself, he started checking the shelves. A slow grin spread over his face as he realized they'd found just what he'd been looking for. "Jackpot," he murmured, looking at the still fairly neatly stacked - thougn now pretty splattered - bars of shaving soap, and boxes of brushes and razors amongst the other supplies a barbershop kept on hand. He pulled down what looked like a couple strips of leather and canvas attached to a hook on one end and nodded. "Alright, they even carried strops in shop. Sweet."