Cars? Yeah. Horses? Not so much. But in the grand scheme of things, that seems like a later problem. One that future Bob can grapple with. For now he's holding up items of clothing and staring at them bemusedly.

"Seriously?"

Eventually what he picks is the longest shorts he can find that only reach mid-thigh and a short-sleeved tunic that's tight around the shoulders. It's immediately uncomfortable and, for somebody as tactile as he is, will get old fast if not torn. The footwear leaves just as much to be desired, the only pair that fits him with a very obvious hole in the sole.

Now that he's at least modest, if a touch on the chilly side, he hands Ankari's cloak back to him, folded messily but... an attempt was made. As if on cue, his belly growls aggressively.