Oh, thank god, she knows who he is. Relief floods his little rodent face and he'd actually collapse with happy weeping if it weren't for the fact that he's not sure how to get out of this. Scrambling over to the fruit, he rolls it over to show her, having a brief idea. Maybe if he eats the fruit again, he'll change back.

He stares up at Helen and nods, very pointedly, yes. He's eyeing the fruit because there's a part of him that's wary about eating it, because what happens if he turns into something worse, like a rat or a possum or some kind of ugly dog or a Scientologist?