Cuthbert gives him a bland look, eyebrows raised, and takes a long drag of his cigarette.

"Funny guy," he remarks after a beat, squinting against the sun in his eye. He likes something about the man-- maybe it's that he's one of the few new people that doesn't seem to be going to any pains to hide what he's about-- but he's watching his step with all of them, just the same.

He gives Sandor a sideways look, then, perhaps for comedic effect, a long, skyward double take.

"You know, it's interesting: tall men aren't intrinsically funny, nor are wide men, really. But it seems when an individual reaches a certain ratio of broad to tall and they've got sort of a mean look about the face, everyone laughs at their jokes! You ever notice that particular phenomenon?"

Bert's lips are puckered against a smile as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

"It's, ah, usually kind of a nervous laugh," he explains, sounding a little less confident when Sandor doesn't respond immediately, and then seems to offer a demonstration: a weak, emaciated chuckle that ends on a question mark.