Boothill stops in his tracks, adjusting his wide-brimmed hat, and turns to face the small child. His eyes flashing with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"What is it with all these fudging hypothetical 'biting me' questions?" He scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Look 'ere lil princess. I ain't gonna turn into one of those Zomboids, but I would be slightly disgusted."

He leans in closer, pointing to his mechanical arm. "I'd worry more about rustin' my arm with how acidic your saliva probably is."

"Nun o' yer teeny tiny biscuit chompers near me, got it?"