...He's what? Howard can't be serious. R thinks about what happened - his dunk in the swamp, leaving his friends with the man who had the lance and the grudge and it's obvious what (probably) happened - and then he thinks of Wyatt. Coming back from the snares. Finding no one's home.

"Maybe we'll..." R struggles to come up with a plan, listing slightly where he sits. "It....it - we...."

He sucks at this thinking on the fly thing, R sitting there still trying to massage his brain into doing something useful for a change instead of stuttering. Wyatt's out there and he has no idea where Julie was. His Escort is gone schmoozing, so he can't groan up an interrogation. It gives Howard time to stuff some more candied walnuts in his mouth, making him look like a scrawny chipmunk, and change the subject to something that makes R come out of his battle-planning. The zombie looks over in surprise. Howard's distraction works.

"Who?" R wonders when this happened. He has to think about what to say next - there's a protocol to this, he's supposed to then say - "Congrats."

That's right, isn't it?

So far Howard's plan seems to be working, R having a hard time deciding if he wants to focus on Wyatt, finding his Escort to ask about Julie or being a good friend and listening to Howard spill the beans about his girlfriend. Too many choices. Zombies don't do choices.