It's a huge compliment to be told he doesn't completely suck. R would fluff up in pride if he was still breathing. "Wasn't bad" is like saying he might still have it.
R gives a pleased wheeze.
Still in that gentle glow of friendship, R twitches another smile on and leans forward as Howard fishes something out of his pocket. R’s gray eyes go to the thing in his hand, taking that few-second delay to focus and process it. Orange. Furry. Chain dangling from one end. Another moment to realize he knows what this is: a rabbit’s foot. There’s a few of these floating around his 747, when he first raided the airport stores for things to add to his collection, by now probably buried under more stuff. Another sign Howard has taste, R thinks. The zombie reaches out and paws a little at the rabbit’s foot, his blood-stained fingers brushing up against Howard’s skin and noticing that it’s warm like Julie's, vibrating with life. Pushing the charm around on Howard’s palm, R fixates on the feel of its soft down fur, running his fingers across patches where it’s rubbed down to leather. Maybe Howard likes touching things too. For all he knows, Howard needs to reassure himself things are there.
“Nice charm,” R looks up. He reluctantly pulls his hand back to himself. The phantom sensation of warmth fades.
Howard goes on with more whistling, his fingers drumming out Elvis now. It's way better than the big, in-your-face Capitol anthems. R opens his mouth to croak out the lyrics but nothing comes out, he blew it all on Fly Me to the Moon and it’s like he needs to recharge after all this talking. Instead the zombie closes his eyes and listens. Maybe he can do the uh-uh-uh parts, it’s kinda close to moaning if you think about it. In the end he decides nah, he only wants to listen.
R waits until Howard finishes before his eyes drift open.
no subject
R gives a pleased wheeze.
Still in that gentle glow of friendship, R twitches another smile on and leans forward as Howard fishes something out of his pocket. R’s gray eyes go to the thing in his hand, taking that few-second delay to focus and process it. Orange. Furry. Chain dangling from one end. Another moment to realize he knows what this is: a rabbit’s foot. There’s a few of these floating around his 747, when he first raided the airport stores for things to add to his collection, by now probably buried under more stuff. Another sign Howard has taste, R thinks. The zombie reaches out and paws a little at the rabbit’s foot, his blood-stained fingers brushing up against Howard’s skin and noticing that it’s warm like Julie's, vibrating with life. Pushing the charm around on Howard’s palm, R fixates on the feel of its soft down fur, running his fingers across patches where it’s rubbed down to leather. Maybe Howard likes touching things too. For all he knows, Howard needs to reassure himself things are there.
“Nice charm,” R looks up. He reluctantly pulls his hand back to himself. The phantom sensation of warmth fades.
Howard goes on with more whistling, his fingers drumming out Elvis now. It's way better than the big, in-your-face Capitol anthems. R opens his mouth to croak out the lyrics but nothing comes out, he blew it all on Fly Me to the Moon and it’s like he needs to recharge after all this talking. Instead the zombie closes his eyes and listens. Maybe he can do the uh-uh-uh parts, it’s kinda close to moaning if you think about it. In the end he decides nah, he only wants to listen.
R waits until Howard finishes before his eyes drift open.
“Per…” R sounds insistent now. “Perfect for you?”