He isn't usually this jumpy, but it's also not every day that he gets attacked by an assortment of sentient metal pieces that hop and hoot and shine ominous lights at him. Refraining from outright running, Bruno still takes another step backwards, holding his hands out in a halting way.

"Okay, so- What do you want from me? Is it food? I- I'm sorry. Don't got any on me." He says, patting himself down as if to prove his words to be true. "Don't make for a good meal, either."