[He might as well make good on that. More sounds brilliant. He's weighted down at the moment though, so he has to wait for the little bugger to stop being so damn needy. Then there's the matter of the absolute baloney she's spitting.]

An egg? [He looks down at the hippo.] What the fuck...you're pulling my leg.

[She carries on though, and further protests die in his throat. Richie sits in silence. His strokes to those leathery ears become dreamlike. Slow.

Not the only one, huh?]

It wasn't here, was it? [He intones quietly. Not looking her in the eye.] You're still bandaged up and I came out...clean.

[Suddenly he snorts.] Well. Of the new scars. The ones that did me in, anyhow.

[He leans forward to set the glass down, cupping the hippo's face in his hands and rubbing it like a dog's. His jaw is locked tight, but he supposes it's not so fair to clam up now.]

I came around eventually, didn't I?

[It wasn't like he was trying to ignore people. Just delay. Just wait. He hadn't been ready to see anyone, and he's not sure what to call Ros in the first place. It just seemed like another knotted mess he couldn't parse until the frame of mind was right for it.]