"Hey, hey, the birds're okay. They're helpin' me," Amos explains, as he heads directly for the shelves.

He loops his fingers around Noah's wrist to simply tow him along, too, because Amos has no concept of personal space and has always been very tactile. It's an automatic thing, to try to use touch to ease his companion.

"That's pretty neat. Izzit weird? Being, uh, embodied again?"