He snorted at that, and tried to work some spit up into the desert dry cavern that was his mouth. "Fuck." He mutters, turning as she mentioned the flamethrower. Giving a slight fist pump, he looked around for the time at the mention of lunch, which immediately triggered a growl in his pillar of a torso. "Lunch sounds good." He remarks, "I could eat at least three horses right about now." With that, he stretched again and immediately waltzed out of the room, heading nowhere in particular.