He lets out a hum of acknowledgement to her comment. There are certain people that Newt is convinced deserve more than death, but he'd be content with them dying so he can understand the sentiment. He can't possibly begin to know what she's thinking, having known her less than ten minutes.

"Where are we goin'?"

He begins to follow her, only to come to a stop when the shotgun is pressed into his hands. He looks at it and offers a small, "thanks," to her before muscle memory takes over and he pulls the pump back looking for a shell in the barrel. He can't recall shooting a gun before the Maze, not that he can recall anything before the Maze, but when he'd been given a rifle back when he was defending the Right Arm, it had all come naturally, like he'd done it before. Part of him hopes it had been his parents that had shown him how to protect himself from Cranks, and part of him fears it was WCKD.

Newt wets his lips, before looking at her and her knife. Now her threat of stabbing him in the eye is a lot more doable, and he's thankful it doesn't seem to be what's on her mind. The fact that she's given him a gun, has him feeling a bit less uneasy with her, even if he's fairly certain by the looks of things she could stab him to death before he could even think of shooting her.

"Name's Newt by the way," he offers, because if they're going to be running out into danger, they might as well know each other's names, he figures.