He told himself it was a good sign that Wyatt sat down instead of turning his back and walking away. Little baby steps. Sure, those baby steps would be a hell of a lot easier if he could talk, but R was starting to feel up about this whole thing.

It was just...Aunamee. R wished he could put his foot down but he couldn't and he couldn't even tell if it was just a character defect he'd always had or if it was a zombie's natural inability to commit. He turned, shifting his body slowly to face Wyatt as he sat down next to him, wet bark and all. Thanks, huh? R doesn't feel like he deserves that thanks. He can't find it in him to really, truly hate Aunamee and there's still a part of him that's horrified he'd eaten his still-warm corpse last Arena. He wondered if a real friend, one with a heartbeat, would feel differently.

R peered at Wyatt through the gloom, a flicker of orange against the trees announcing dawn was closing in.

Leaning over, R touched the man's chest and brushed his fingers against that heart he knew beat steadily away underneath the grimy shirt. He let his fingers sit there, staring the man in the eyes. He (thought) he got why Wyatt had such a hardline about Aunamee. But what would happen if he kept up the killing? An eye for an eye?