There wasn't any getting around the fact that Shrieky's initial response to recognizing that he was being addressed by a walking corpse was abject shock. He wasn't unaccustommed to corpses, of course. People fell from battlements, jumped from battlements, were pushed from battlements, and finding their semi-decayed bodies in the moat was a rare but entertaining treat for him! He'd had one particularly robust corpse around for nearly a month, and dragging it up to the surface and making it poke it's head over the edge of the drawbridge from time to time (to traumatize knights and horses alike) had been a fine way for him to pass the time.

Still, the thing with corpses was... they didn't tend to sass you back when you told them to move, so this was a little strange to say the least.

Priorities though. There was a much more severe problem here than the presence of a gristly sentient corpse threatening to remove his tongue,

"Don't call me human!"

His voice rose a few octaves with his ire, the noise of it enough of a disturbance for the little old lady behind the counter to shoot them both a stern look.