R opens his mouth to say he's past the point of suffocating when his Escort huffs over his head, offended, and looks like she's seconds away from slapping Eponine's hands away audience be damned.

She instead settles for not-to-subtly shifting him out of the girl's reach like R's nothing more than decomposing luggage. Her smile becomes even more strained.

"He's fine! I'm his Escort, I ought to know!" She buckles on the muzzle tight, movements so fast she could chip a nail if she isn't careful. R's tried to take nips at his Escort enough in the past that she takes that part seriously. "It stays on or I'm afraid I'll have to have a word with your Escort, honey."

R wants to sigh. Between his Escort trying to fend off Eponine, he feels like he's in the middle of a zombie tug-of-war.