"It would make a passable staff," Methos agreed, eyeing the IV pole critically. He double-checked the assessment internally. Passable, not optimal, but there weren't likely to be many properly weapons-grade pieces of equipment lying around. He made a mental note to look for a box cutter if they did make their way to the janitor's station.

The clattering of the cart at the door snagged his attention, and wheeled to face the door, crouch shifting fluidly to a more combative stance. He didn't really relax when he spied the girl and her companion, but straightened enough to look non-aggressive.

It was a definite effort not to scoff at the boy's explanation for their presence. Methos' eyebrows climbed, and he glanced at the cart. "It sounds like you've had a fairly lucky night already," he noted. It was a guess; he hadn't been paying enough attention to the sound to have the first clue what was in there, but it seemed a ridiculous thing to drag around if they didn't have something worth hauling. He rested one hand on the stretcher and smiled blandly. "If you've got tools or a prybar, we can disassemble this and split the parts. There's not much else here, unless you care to take the fittings off the door."