The sound of footsteps coming down the corridor suddenly stops, and there's silence. But only for a second, until a familiar gravel voice rings out.

"Is that a cockroach I hear in the walls?" Rico calls out cheerily, hands on his hips. He's covered in metallic sludge and blood, splattered on his boots and front, and in a far more cheerful mood than he should be. He starts walking again, spinning his lawgiver in one hand, idly tromping closer to the source of the disturbance.

"If you're a zombie, go ahead and say no."