Scarlet shared a confused glance with Much. "Millennium bugs? What are you on about?" He was prepared to follow Arthur, even if he didn't really want to stick his hands in a cold, dead, bloody carcass in the cold slush, and get frostbite in all his fingers. "Are you alright? It's been twenty-one years, mate. How have you been holding up?"
Art didn't look all that concerned. Actually, Art looked almost good. Except for the hair, obviously. And the smelling like leaf mulch and mud.