I've finally been able to draw him after I got some help from a friend of mine. He drew the pose because I couldn't think of one that was expressive enough, and I just took over from there. The one thing I still had an excessively difficult time drawing was the hands. My friend ended up drawing his right fist because I had a hard enough time trying to make his left hand look feasible enough. I'm currently working on a digital tracing of it because it would be much easier to work on this than the other digital compositions I've been neglecting.

Anyways, this is Bertram's landlord. I picture him more as an allidile than a gator, but I'm not fully decided on that matter. Unlike most landlords, he seems far too forgiving when the rent is overdue. It's because he has a very strange neurological condition that leaves him generally unable to feel most "negative" emotions such as sadness, anger, depression, remorse, dread, fear, disgust, loneliness, etc. When situations arise that would require these emotional responses, he usually reacts with confusion or indifference. However, he has felt these emotions before when indifference and confusion left him unsatisfied, but these moments are too few and far between to feel anything other than foreign whenever they do arise in what can generously be described as yearly intervals at most. Towards other animals, he usually comes off as congenial and inexplicably jolly, even though he spends a fair amount of his time not feeling anything and never lamenting that he feels nothing. He can feel proud or full of glee over even the simplest and most inconsequential of thoughts, but those feelings tend to fade quickly if no further stimulation is provided.
Because of his very nature, most animals act very suspicious around him and are reluctant to talk to him, confront him over things, or even empathize with him. This is especially true of animals who notice him react to perceived tragedies with his usual manner of calm indifference and the like. He can still feel some level of conflict over things and still knows that there are aspects of the world around him that aren't pleasant and shouldn't be in the world at all, but he never feels a sense of moral indignation over even the most despicable of acts and has trouble completely empathizing with the animals who experience tragedy firsthand or by proxy. So those who are exposed to this side of him usually end up discomforted by his presence or just outright despise him, which is why he has almost no friends despite being an extrovert.
Bertram usually feels guilty about exploiting his hospitality and prefers to keep himself distanced from him, often hiding when he comes to collect the rent he can't afford.