"I could do worse than hallucinogenic rabbits." He furrows his brow at her, wondering if any of that could be true. It doesn't seem likely, but he's not a stranger to unforeseen oddities. After a moment's consideration, he nods. "Fine." It's too early for him to be putting up this much of a fight for potentially poisonous food. If he gets a craving later he'll go to the pet store.

Or at least he thinks it's early. He opens the door up wider for her, at the same time leaning to the side to check the clock on the wall. Nearly ten. Not that early, but he has been meaning to catch up on his soaps and this is usually about the time that they start going. He's sure he'll be about to catch a rerun of something.

He leaves the door open and goes to plop back onto his sofa. The blood in the coffee mug on the floor is sort of lukewarm, but it's still decent enough to drink. He takes a sip, resolutely ignoring any bunny-gathering that may be taking place around him. Only, when he starts flipping channels, he only finds infomercials. Every single channel seems to be hawking some sort of shitty kitchen appliance or exercise equipment. "This is bullshit," he says, more to the TV than to Sunshine.