That's generous of Bert, really, it is. R purses his lips, the muzzle tilting as his head sags to the side like it's wilting. Those strange grey eyes of his are fixed on Bert. "Appreciate...it. Sorry...about...almost..."

Almost biting him and then it was death or life after death, your pick. Not really good options. R feels that odd urge rise up, the one that says he wants to argue instead of groan like a good little zombie. It's one of his bad habits. He wants to point out to Bert that daydreaming about ripping out his flesh wasn't always natural. He's sure he wasn't born this way.

R heaves his shoulders in a shrug. "See you...then...?"