Snart stubbornly looks at Matt's hand and refuses to take the help. As long as he was conscious, he was not going to make the man shoulder two weights. "You tied your stick around my leg and you're carrying the kid; I can manage to stand up on my own." Matt would hear the sound of the cold gun charging up. "And I'll cover us." Worst came to worst, he could always hit the wound with a glancing shot, ice it over to stop the bleeding. But then again, there was a reason it was a last resort. It would hurt like a bitch and though he knew Gideon could regrow limbs, he didn't want to push his luck.

"Like I said, we're damn good at what we do. I never said what we did was teamwork. We were picked for our individual skills. You know mine. Raymond's here is his suit. Or, his brain, I guess. We're a team of misfits. We just happen to be bad ass misfits." He started forward, staggering at first, but managed to steady his gait after a few clumsy steps.

Snart kept to back alleys, staying close to walls and shadows. He refused to draw attention to them, even if it was just a bystander. By the time they made it to the ship, his pulse was thready and his breathing was irregular. He put a hand over the sensor and the hatch descended. As soon as he stepped on board, the ship chimed in with an alert.

"Mister Snart, you have sustained a bullet wound and lost a great deal of blood. The wound is clean, missing most major arteries, however there are a number of ruptured blood vessels and torn muscle tissue. You require immediate attention."

"Tell me something I don't know." He muttered. "Gideon, Daredevil-Daredevil, Gideon. Ship's computer. Follow me, and feel free to dump Raymond anywhere." He is the most compassionate.