His knees might be locked but his jaw isn't - as Beth comes close, a muscle in his mouth twitches an involuntary tic, his lips peeling back for a moment as if he's about to start snarling. R's horrified. Here's this perfectly nice Living who's doing the unthinkable and talking to him and he's one mistake away from lunging forward and hanging on crocodile-style. She looks young, which means the memories she have would be sharp and bright but so much shorter than the older people he's killed. Older people's memories tended to age like wine, he guesses.

R clamps his mouth shut with a click. For a second he worries he'll shatter his brittle back teeth.

"B...eth..." R wants to ask her so many questions. He purses his lips, a look of concentration fading onto his face, "...Rrgh....R. Name. Hi..."

R struggles to turn to the half-snarl into a smile: he gives Beth nice view of ruined, crooked teeth and a chunk of something that might've been someone stuck in there.