Cronic held the last remaining sleeping individual over his shoulder, as he raised an eyebrow at the Rabbit's dialogue between it and the... thing, in font of it.

"...Great... So now we're in a place where we're likely to die regardless whether or not we want to be here." Cronic said to no-one in particular, slamming the palm of his free hand against his forehead and shaking his head in annoyance.

"If I had a weapon of some description, I'd probably just off myself now and save whoever wants us dead the trouble. Unbe-freakin-lievable." Cronic said to himself, rubbing his forehead, having hit himself harder than initially intended.