Jo would love anything that she'd normally have on her, and everything her backpack had carried across four worlds. She'd even go for a full new stock from what had been the Roadhouse's filled coffers out of Aja's hands and bankbook. All of it gone entirely annoys the hell out of her. Salt rubbing into the wound, over and over and over, each new time she remembers and her tense just enough without no one to punch for it.

Though she'd still take a gun, and or, especially, her father's knife, over a lockpick kit even now.

She heads for the first house. No lights on in any windows she can spot. A thick dust settled on the stairs, and the window ledges, the porch and the door. That makes her give Cougar an odd glance, but even then, she still raises her hand and knocks first. Just. In case. The lack of a gun made it harder to have anything defensible if it was just someone who didn't give a damn about their place hiding inside it versus it just being this abandoned.