If they did give him flipflops, Bunny has not kept them.

"How many staplers -" Bunny has to think about that a moment. Does he know what a stapler is? Does he need to? If it can be thrown off the side of the Rig, well, he's sure ready to throw something.

"Fine. Lemme -" He begins to reach instinctively for a pack that isn't there, and cuts the motion short with a grumble. No holster - no weapons, no gauntlets. It wouldn't be correct to say he feels naked without them, he just feels robbed, but that feeling never quite goes away, always scratching at his subconscious.

"Never mind. Lets go." He'll feel better when he's in the fresh air, seeing a sunrise. He jumps over Mac and out the door, loping a few meters on all fours before standing up to keep closer to Mac's eye level.

Now comes the weirdest part - small talking. Bunny hasn't had to talk small about anything in the handful of decades he can remember, and can't even remember meeting anyone new before he got to the Rig. How do mortals do this? Uh -

"Weather's terrible, isn't it?"

Yup. Somehow, some part of his memory knows clearly, this is what mortals talk about.