Where was he? R flaps his hand over his shoulder. Doing what he said he'd do, what else? He tries to be a corpse of his word.
He's about to hand over his booty and then start pulling piranhas off his legs when he notices Howard is fidgeting (again!) and pointing and looking ready to bolt in the opposite direction or hop back in that bush, forget the free food. R decides maybe he better look up too. Shakily following Howard's finger, R stares up at the night sky and at first he doesn't see it: a gleam of metallic silver across the clouds, a light flashing that for a moment reminds him of an airliner's wings as it taxis down the runway. Used to taxi. Planes don't do any flying these days.
It takes him a long moment, long enough for them to drop closer, for him to recognize what they actually are. Parachutes, with containers dangling off the ends, which is where the flashing lights are. There are two of them, one small, the other large enough to require a two-handed catch.
R watches with interest as they fall. In his head, he reaches up and catches it out of the air easily like hand-eye coordination is natural and fluid, hands it over to Howard to let the little guy do the honors like Christmas exists. The reality is his container bumps off his chest and lands on the pavement. The parachute pools between them, Howard's care package not far behind.
"Mmgh?" The zombie leans forward as he shoots his friend a questioning glance. He'd raise his eyebrow if he could but he's afraid if he even tries, his eyeball will pop back out again. Better not push it. "...Yours?"
Because it's natural to see things falling from the sky and assume it's probably Howard's. Yup. R stares at his parachute as if he can't read the single letter across the surface, his deathly pale face looking both bored and somehow interested at the same time. It's a zombie thing.
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He's about to hand over his booty and then start pulling piranhas off his legs when he notices Howard is fidgeting (again!) and pointing and looking ready to bolt in the opposite direction or hop back in that bush, forget the free food. R decides maybe he better look up too. Shakily following Howard's finger, R stares up at the night sky and at first he doesn't see it: a gleam of metallic silver across the clouds, a light flashing that for a moment reminds him of an airliner's wings as it taxis down the runway. Used to taxi. Planes don't do any flying these days.
It takes him a long moment, long enough for them to drop closer, for him to recognize what they actually are. Parachutes, with containers dangling off the ends, which is where the flashing lights are. There are two of them, one small, the other large enough to require a two-handed catch.
R watches with interest as they fall. In his head, he reaches up and catches it out of the air easily like hand-eye coordination is natural and fluid, hands it over to Howard to let the little guy do the honors like Christmas exists. The reality is his container bumps off his chest and lands on the pavement. The parachute pools between them, Howard's care package not far behind.
"Mmgh?" The zombie leans forward as he shoots his friend a questioning glance. He'd raise his eyebrow if he could but he's afraid if he even tries, his eyeball will pop back out again. Better not push it. "...Yours?"
Because it's natural to see things falling from the sky and assume it's probably Howard's. Yup. R stares at his parachute as if he can't read the single letter across the surface, his deathly pale face looking both bored and somehow interested at the same time. It's a zombie thing.