Cricket holds onto Harley's hand kind of tight. Reminding him of Jack goes right to his heart and it's a good way of making him think hard about things. It's a different situation, though. (He doesn't know how different, but still.)

"Well. I reckon there was no point to sayin' anything to Jackie, though. He was pretty far gone for Bertha Minnix, and I think he won her over." And she was a nice girl. Smart enough to poke holes in Jack's ego when he needed it. Cricket sort of approved, as much as he could.

"What's a god want with a crippled, dead, bootlegger?" He smiles weakly. "But I guess it can't hurt none to say something. Not while we're all this drunk, anyway."