Wig man lurched back, a hand going to his perfect coif, patting flyaways back into the neat spiral curls. If R weren't already dead, the venomous look the man speared him with would likely have been enough to drop him on the spot.

Wyatt sniffed and tried not to laugh.

"We'll get'er done, R." He nodded, wrestling with his grin as the green man shifted the stare to him, as if R ungainly cage and slow shuffle were somehow his fault. "I ain't got any doubts'a that."