Gordon nods. He's picking through the remains of the Combine nearest to him, but all he's finding at the moment is ammunition. Not that this is a bad thing, per se, but his leg is still largely dependent on Arnold's bandaging skills to stay functional. And they've still got a ways to go.

He glances over at the man in the yellow suit, one eyebrow raised; where does His Nibs think they need to go from here, hm?