The task of getting R up onto solid ground takes pretty much all of Howard's strength, and at one point he has to tie himself with the wires to the rail. Zombies just don't have great balance; Howard wonders if R's inner ear has decomposed. But they eventually manage it, and both make it to the little tunnel Howard's calling home for the time-being. Howard lays on his back, panting for breath from the exertion, but keeps his heels on the ground in case he needs to jump up, should R attack. Friends or not, paranoia is a serious factor.
"Thanks," he wheezes as he takes the rat and sits back up, thinking R's not unlike a dog dropping a felled duck at its master's feet. He's not going to eat it yet - he'll cut it into pieces first, rather than gnaw on it and maybe choke on a bone - but he does fully intend on making it his meal for the day. He received some food last Arena, but doesn't like relying on gifts from the sky.
Then he takes a good look at R.
R's attempts at cleaning himself up haven't done any good. Firstly, Howard doesn't care about a little messy eating, and secondly, there's the issue of the missing eye.
"Oh my God..." It's not the worst thing Howard's ever seen, but it's close. R's eye socket gazes back at him like a puckered mouth suckling at his terrors. The eyeball itself hangs from a semi-dried pinkish string, swinging a little whenever R moves his head. It swings like a pendulum, almost hypnotic in its grotesque presentation. Howard can't help the way his lip curls, the way his forehead turns into a furrow of disgust and horror.
"Oh my God," he repeats. "Oh, oh my God. Okay. Okay, wow, okay. Jeez. Wow." Meaningless words come spilling out his mouth to fill the space, to fill the air that he'd love to just fill with screaming right now, except he's too smart, too jaded. The part of him that wants to shriek and cry is much too small to outwrestle the part of him that knows he shouldn't draw any attention to them.
He points a shaking hand at the dangling eyeball. "Okay. Can that...do you want me to help you pop that back in, or just rip it off? I mean, can you see with it?"
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"Thanks," he wheezes as he takes the rat and sits back up, thinking R's not unlike a dog dropping a felled duck at its master's feet. He's not going to eat it yet - he'll cut it into pieces first, rather than gnaw on it and maybe choke on a bone - but he does fully intend on making it his meal for the day. He received some food last Arena, but doesn't like relying on gifts from the sky.
Then he takes a good look at R.
R's attempts at cleaning himself up haven't done any good. Firstly, Howard doesn't care about a little messy eating, and secondly, there's the issue of the missing eye.
"Oh my God..." It's not the worst thing Howard's ever seen, but it's close. R's eye socket gazes back at him like a puckered mouth suckling at his terrors. The eyeball itself hangs from a semi-dried pinkish string, swinging a little whenever R moves his head. It swings like a pendulum, almost hypnotic in its grotesque presentation. Howard can't help the way his lip curls, the way his forehead turns into a furrow of disgust and horror.
"Oh my God," he repeats. "Oh, oh my God. Okay. Okay, wow, okay. Jeez. Wow." Meaningless words come spilling out his mouth to fill the space, to fill the air that he'd love to just fill with screaming right now, except he's too smart, too jaded. The part of him that wants to shriek and cry is much too small to outwrestle the part of him that knows he shouldn't draw any attention to them.
He points a shaking hand at the dangling eyeball. "Okay. Can that...do you want me to help you pop that back in, or just rip it off? I mean, can you see with it?"