R watches the scene play out with a dull, slack-jawed interest.

He probably shouldn't groan that aside from Eva and her spear, realistically he wouldn't have trouble shuffling in and eating the two of them if he really wanted to.

(Which he did. It was a small miracle he hadn't).

The hunger gnashing its teeth at the sight of easy prey and howling in the back of his head, R stares forward. The smell of vomit, new and old, should be eye-watering. He has the idea that his gag reflex should be going into over time. Dry-heave. But his corpse refuses even that much, leaning forward slightly instead of rocking back on his heels. Eponine would probably go down easiest because she's not riddle with...parts like the old man is.

R bites down on the side of his cheek, clenching his jaw. He'd made it this far without killing anyone. If he can make it past today, past this cave with the weak and ill, then he can make it the rest of the Arena, right? Somehow he has to show them he's a monster, but he's not always a monster. Not a lost cause.

"Not...kill. Not...eat." A disappointed shudder runs up his spine. R guiltily squashes it down. "E-va's right. Want...to...help."