“ oh -- oh, god, sorry, bro -- ” damn his inattention to hell, and damn it ESPECIALLY when russ lays eyes on just who it was that he splattered cafeteria-grade ( read: bad ) spaghetti all over. josh thornberg. the josh thornberg. oh my holy damn. the companion he was talking to? long gone. fucking aj. he’s on his own here. russell’s mind goes into an absolute panic and he puts a hand out, mouth moving to rationalize before he can mentally. “ you’re real mad, aren’t ya? big, big, mad guy. definitely drank your milk growing up, am i right? well, am i? you’re going to kill me. the look you have right now -- it’s a murder face, isn’t it? i’ve seen enough horror shows that i know, i can just tell, this is where i die. i didn’t drink milk, dude. i never did, hated it, and now i’m going to die. i have a request, okay? when you kill me, go over there to the table with the scrawny kid who ran off, and you kill him too. he was asking me about pigeons and i was too busy telling him to go kiss his fifty bird girlfriends to pay attention and that’s why you have spaghetti all over you. ”