2020-04-08 - Supermarket Sweep: Comestibles Clash

Graham's here because the Safeway advertised ridiculously low prices on cartons of cigarettes. Actually, he's not completely in the store yet; he's standing just outside the automatic doors, trying to finish a cigarette before he goes inside to buy more cigarettes. It's an addiction. He's struck up a nice conversation with one of the fruit-stockers, at least until the guy's break is over. Left alone, Graham crunches out his own cigarette and leans into the steps that take him through the door.

For cigarettes.

August's shopping list seldom includes meat or veggies, so his cart is always full of an amusing collection. Today: shampoo and conditioner, sherry, a bottle of cheap merlot, floss, tooth paste, cocoa powder, paper towels. Plus whatever Eleanor needs; like many people who still have that college mindset he just wanders around grabbing what he remembers he had to come get.

Groceries. Errands. Adulting.

It’s not all that difficult when you’re living for yourself. Stephanie usually just ships for herself unless she’s expecting to entertain, which isn’t that often.

She has her phone in hand with the shopping list pulled up and she moves efficiently, just as she would when working to save a life.

In aisle 3, Everett contemplates heavy matters. Life. His place in it. How many carbs are in the can of Campbell's heart healthy Chicken Noodle soup. The serious matters. His hand basket has a few other items: tortilla bread, baby carrots, hummus. Someone's shopping for the carb avoider in their life. Himself. He puts two cans in his basket and then combs fingers through his hair to settle the long strands back into place when he lifts his head.

Eleanor does NOT wander about grabbing things. She has a detailed list which should be in the proper order for Safeway's aisles but the damn store seems to change every other day which negates that bit of her incessant planning. She's added a few things to August's cart including a new toothbrush, some Tylenol, bubble bath, and orange juice. She's in jeans and a tank under a light canvas jacket, her hair in a loose messy bun at the nape of her neck.

Erin had taken to cooking now that Jack was teaching her how and he had all but moved in over Christmas. Squash, he had said, any kind available. So there she was, wheeling a cart through the aisles, yellow squash, zucchini and acorn squash in the basket along with brussel sprouts and fresh asparagus. Stopping by a display, she adds a container of cherry tomatoes that were glistening with the spray of water, then moves for the grapes and strawberries.

"One day they're going to leave these aisles in the same order for more than a week," August says as he grabs rice from the bulk bins. "And then maybe, just maybe, we'll get out of here in under an hour. Did you say you wanted oats? We can make steel cut in the pressure cooker thing." He means the Instantpot, which he steadfastly refuses to call by its real name. He's in a purple UW hoodie, jeans, urban hikers, and a Hoh Rain Forest tee in brick red.

"It's an InstantPot, August," Eleanor retorts with an amused look in her eyes. "Do you really think it sounds less silly to call it a pressure-cooker-thing?" She grins and kisses his cheek before she reaches to grab a container of oats. "If the blueberries look good we can use some of those in the oatmeal too. I can't keep just eating muffins at the shop for breakfast. It can't be healthy."

The denim clad brunette (bringing back the 90s with demim from head to toe) is startled when she hears the chatter of the animated supermarket dwellers. The shift feels sudden, like one minute, Steph’s grocery shopping, and the next minute, otherwise inanimate objects are alive and talking? She’s clearly confused as she heads to check out.

"Aw, goddamit it," says Graham when he rolls around the corner from Aisle Two into Aisle Insane, having failed to find an employee that could open the cigarette case and sell him his goddamn cigarettes. He actually jumps back at first, recoiling when all that blue misty starts squirting all over, picking something up off an end-cap (it's a box of cereal) and holding it in front of him like a shield. "Help you? Fuck off, you help me!" He tries to kick the talking bell pepper away, but winds up clobbering his foot on the base of the bin instead, which triggers a whole new slew of profanity.

Coming to the end of his aisle, the gorilla takes a look around, his attention called by the voices. This time not coming from his head, but coming from the products at the aisle end. Everett stretches his chin then covers his face with his palm, softly sighing with the weight of the world on his shoulders. When he lifts his head, he casts his gaze to his hand basket and prods the items already in there curiously. Just. To be sure.

Already in the produce and looking over the fresh ears of corn to possibly grill out, the misters come on and Erin automatically steps back, still holding one of the ears of corn, unknowingly rescuing it from the blue mist. As all of the vegetables come to life she drops the ear of corn and it lands in the top portion of her basket, on top of the cloth bags she had brought to avoid using plastic or paper bags. Her cart is suddenly alive with shouts and complaints of helping their brother out of the chemicals and after the immediate stunned surprise, she steps away from the cart and reaches for one of the display racks that holds a household broom. Arming herself with that, she glances to Graham with a what the hell look.

"InstantPot doesn't mean anything, it's just a branding thing. It's a pressure--" August pulls up short when they find themselves not where they were, and maybe most importantly (to him), without the groceries they just bought.

He peers at the vegetables, trying to decide if he's high on dryad sap again. The plants hadn't talked, per se, though maybe he'd just needed to get a little more. But then there's Graham, cursing up a storm, and Erin and Stephanie. He even recognizes Everett. So...yeah.

"Great," he says, tone dry. "Some jackass better not take our stuff."

Vegetables are screaming? What fresh (produce) hell is this?! It takes Eleanor a few moments of blinking to assure herself this is a Dream, not a dream. She grips August's arm and grimaces. "Well, I guess we should be grateful we're wearing pants this time," she mutters to him in the longsuffering tone of a lifelong resident of Gray Harbor. "Are They trying to turn us off being vegetarians or something? Don't They realize we'd never give up our carnivorous habits?" Still, despite her wisecracking, she looks around warily. It's never simple over Here. So much for eating healthy ever again. She might go all meat all the time after this.

Stephanie eyes the cantaloupe and his banana minions with a critical look. She has but only one question. “What do you know about...?” She twirls her finger around in a gesture, pointing up at the source of the poisonous blue mist. “And what would you want from me?”

Graham hops around in place a couple times, dropping his cereal shield so he can hold onto his foot and rub it uselessly. All this while the produce mob is assembling. He tests his weight on his hurt foot, gives the bell pepper the finger, and then stops making obscene gestures and hopping around so he can brow-lift at the bossy cantaloupe. "How's about I put you in my fucking salad shredder, buy my Marlboros, and go on home? How's about that," he grumps toothlessly.

Setting his hand basket down, Everett picks up a can of the chicken noodle, heart healthy, from it. Leaving the shelter of his aisle, he tosses the can a few inches in the air to catch it again. Nothing impressive. Just getting ready since thus far, there havn't been any hostilities. There's another glance around, scoping out that everyone at least seems capable before he makes a sound. "Ppst." Trying to someone's attention. Stephanie or Erin, they look like they don't have someone to use as a human shield, and jerks his head over his way.

Erin holds the broom by the handle and watches the vegetable and fruit mafia. Hearing the sound over the mob, she nods to Everett at the gesture and sort of abandons her cart and gets closer, but not behind anyone. No one had elected her spokesperson of the group and she gladly doesn't take the helm of it, looking expectantly towards August or Graham for that. "I wonder what they want," she muses quietly to Everett.

Don't let Graham be your spokesperson, guys. He mostly just curses, shoots stuff, and steals things. It won't end well.

August narrows his eyes at the cantaloupe and its banana entourage. Nodding at Stephanie, he adds, "You want us to deal with that chemical problem? Or something else." He cuts a look at Erin, amused at the idea of Graham speaking for anyone but himself, especially considering he went right for the juicer threats. "I'm not with him," he adds, pointing at Graham.

Eleanor stares. She stares at the Noo Yawker drawling cantaloupe and his posse of bruised-fruit bruisers. "I think I liked the Dreams better where we had no pants," she notes to August. "Is this like those old fairytale warnings about never eating anything on the other side? I'm thinking this might be like that. Though I'm definitely off the banana nut muffins at the shop for a while regardless." She quiets when August speaks to the fruit, just standing beside him.

There is only a raised eyebrow as a reaction to the cantaloupe’s report. It’s clear that they’re dealing with some sort of turf war here. Stephanie turns to Everett and Erin, looking unafraid and unconcerned (a look Erin may not remember seeing on her before), there’s a hint of cockiness in her confidence.

“Now, I don’t speak for anyone but myself but I am going to see what I can do about the industrial cleaner situation. I am going to help, because it’s what I do,” Stephanie announces, “I would appreciate anyone who joins me, but that’s entirely on you.”

She then heads towards the freezers.

Graham makes some gestures with his hands between himself and August that reiterate the other guy's statement: they're totally not together. Said gestures fizzle out when he's busy giggling about the banana joke and, while they get bowled over by their boss, tossing Erin's way, "Too bad they weren't plantains, yanno? Girthier. You coulda had a helluva night."

Then he's making more hand-gestures, these ones involving his thumbs hooking in the direction of what he assumes is the direction they need to be going. His feet already start thataway, though he stops to pick up the box of Kix that he was using as a shield earlier. "It's kid tested, mother approved," is the mumble that he uses to justify it to the universe, one that trails into him humming that song from Beetlejuice. You guys know the one, where it's all "come mister tallyman, tally me bananas."

Everett leans over to murmur at Erin, while keeping his eyes on the action. "I don't know. But those tomatoes look stewed," he says with all seriousness. A glance is given to August, then to Graham, half of them he knows of. The big guy looks curious; should they be declaring their allegiances? He looks at the banana mob, and his brows lift, then shifts his focus to Erin, pursing his lips to suppress a grin. With a couple of people peeling themselves to head to Deli, Everett shrugs his shoulders, makes an inquisitive sound in his throat, and follows. Why not.

Yeah that wasn't expected at all and while Erin's face turns red at the insinuation, she lifts the broom like it's about to be a javelin at the offending fruit. They get bowled over though before she can. "Jerks." She doesn't go out of her way to curse or anything, but she does look terribly offended. Eyeing Everett and his attempt not to grin earns him a nudge from her elbow. "Jerk," she repeats, but there's no heat in it this time. Graham just gets a glare as she starts following him, her broom in hand, eyeing the target that's his back as she does. To Stephanie, she motions to Graham, "Maybe we better all stick together?"

August sighs, long-suffering, at the bananas and their comments to Erin. But then their boss deals with them, which has him scratching his head. "Well that sure did just happen," he says to no one in particular.

He eyes Stephanie, watches her and Graham head off. A helpless shrug of one shoulder at Erin. "Yeah." And he doesn't even have his knife or his handgun. Well, maybe he can find something useful to wield on their way.

But not a box of cereal. That's not happening. "Here goes nothing," he murmurs to Eleanor.

Eleanor blurts out a laugh at the banana's off-color comment and then covers her mouth with her hand to silence herself. Her shoulders are still shaking though. She gets herself under control and murmurs to August, "I've heard of Supermarket Wars but not like this. What side should we even be on?" Stephanie gets a look at her little speech and the redhead calls out, "You protect fruits and veggies for a living? From angry meat products? Really?" Because really? She follows August though.

Graham has a gun! He just hasn't taken it out yet because he's convinced this box of Kix is the way to go. "How do you know she doesn't work the salad bar at the Sizzler?" he counters to Eleanor, using his own 'really' tone. "Where're we going, anyway?" he asks... uh... anyone before he swings around the corner to the head of the next aisle over, totally throwing a thumbs-up at Erin's suggestion; they should stick together, he agrees!

"Holy shit, I love, ahm, this band. Queen, I love Queen!" Graham bobs his head to the song he's totally wrong about, so at least he's not humming the bananaman song anymore, that's an improvement. But maybe they should keep walking, so he keeps walking - right into a huge fucking disaster. "What the shit - what the - why is all this shit on fire?!" He tries to stomp some stuff out, turns so it's more his back to the fray than his face (What? He's beautiful. He wants to stay that way.), and then grabs his gun, sighing hugely about how he needs to quit smoking, for reals.

August peers at the aisles as they go along. Squints at the baked goods in particular. He snags a nice, big, 1 liter glass bottle of Mexican Coke for a weapon. If nothing else, he can clock someone--or thing--over the...whatever, with it. He can bludgeon with it.

And then, they're faced with this. "Fuck!" August calls up his shield, tries to get himself between Eleanor and anything on fire.

Eleanor boggles at the pastry orgy occurring in the baked goods section. "I can never unsee that," she whisper-hisses to August. When the paper products confront them, the coffee maven moves to shield herself with her Glimmer, letting the kinetic energy coalesce around her like invisible armor. She moves into a defensive stance and somewhere, Joey Kelly is giving her an 'attagirl!' for remembering her training at the gym.

Stephanie does herself a favour and shields herself before she attacks, sticking out her finger guns, but then is thrown back by a charcoal bomb, and it explodes on her. She lets out a grunt and then sticks her finger guns out again, letting the charcoal bomb have it, tiny bullet sized fireballs coming out of her fingers.

The prod to his ribs has the thug spurt a soft sound, of an escaped laugh. But since she's going to be like that, he has more, and even though the mesa used it already, he feels justified in adding, "They sure found you... ap*PEEL*ing." He can't help himself, and takes a happy sigh while they're on their way, "I'll have to thank them a BUNCH for that," he adds to Erin. He could go on.

And on, and on. And, hold on -- what is that chocolate frosting doing to those sprinkles? Everett lingers. Just a little.
But then there's incoming fire and Everett crouches and takes up a defensive position. To the person he was just mocking, he advices, "Get behind me," and tightens his grip on his can. Heart healthy this is not. He evades an attack by the 15 ply roll, and readies to use a fork to eat his soup.

"OW!" Eleanor shouts as a flyswatter WHACKS her right in the left boob. "That is NOT POLITE AT ALL!" she hollers at it, as her poor assaulted personal cantaloupe throbs. She grabs a baking tray off the baking aisle and swings it viciously at the flyswatter, trying to knock it out of the air.

The toilet paper clocks August solidly, making him stagger. It's the charcoal that's the real problem, though; he doesn't take a direct hit, but when that thing explodes a good handful of it hits him in the side of the head. Burned hair, what a smell. Fuck you, Kingston, August is never using briquettes again, it's gas grills from here on out.

He kneels down, hand on the seared side of his face, coughing. "Kick their asses, hon," he murmurs, directing a bit of energy to Eleanor.

"Mwah!" That's Graham to his gun, which he actually kisses. Fuck all y'all, he has no shame about this, 'cause he just one-shot that whole roll of paper-towels by himself. This is immediately followed by him jittering away from the stuff squirting at him, going, "Ow ew quit it!" He shoots vaguely in the direction of the nasty shit attacking him, but it's not his best effort.

Erin gets hit in the head with a damned fork! A plastic fork! She rubs it to make sure there's no plastic tines broke off in there, wincing a little at the graze there. "It just got real." She doesn't even hear if someone is talking to her, she's too weirded out by the paper goods trying to make them a picnic.

Eleanor attempts to use her Telekinesis to swing the cookie sheet at the flyswatter, but it resists the Glimmer. "Is that how this is going to be? You just want me to straight up beat you? Don't you have better things to do than wage war in the aisles!?" She swings the tray again, this time just using her own arms instead of her powers.

Bang! Toilet paper shreds go flying, Graham's worryingly surprised that he actually hit something. "No shit," he breathes, then shrugs and takes aim at the Charmin once more. Mind, his focus breaks when more stuff gets squirted at him - and then when briquettes are exploding on his Chuck Taylors! "Ow! Fuck! Stop!" He shoots a look around at the others, realizing at that exact moment that they're also getting shit shot at them and exploded on them and stuff. "You realize you're talking shit to a flyswatter, right?" That's for Eleanor, then he's back to aiming at things. Pew pew!

Eleanor grunts back at Graham, "I've talked shit to WAY weirder things thanks to this goddamed town!"

Graham, while 409 is zipping him in the arm, "Ever consider investing in a firearm? I know a guy..."

That charcoal has its sights set on August. This time it's his chest, and he reels backwards into a display of ice cream, but manages to stay up. His UW hoodie and Hoh Rain Forest shirt are a loss, though. "Shut up and shoot," he tells Graham, which is sure to help him aim better.

So many things attacking all at once! There's so many things to target! When Everett takes out the forks, Erin gives him a grateful look but there's little time for more as the charcoal and the toilet paper come at her. "Ohgod.." she tries to light it up.

With his fit clutched around the can, Everett pummels the plastic fork. Maybe just deserts for it attacking Erin and pinging off her forehead. Leaving it a broken shell of its former-self, Everett grunts, kicking a tong away, lifts his gaze to see a new opponent and blows a long strand from his face while he stares with cold, dead eyes and charges at it the Kitchen Cleaner with bared teeth.

Stephanie looks bad. She’s clutching her chest, and has taken quite a shot to the head so she opts to set something else on fire, aiming at the kitchen cleaner while taking cover behind the seafood counter.

There's a second when Graham blinks at August and the barrel of the gun twitches away from the problematic toilet paper and the kid with the gun is like, "First off," and then along come all these pineapples and he remembers who the enemy is (and isn't). Another shot, another spray of papery products, and another darling smile from Graham, so pleased with himself. "I thought you were dealing with this fly swatter situation," he complains - probably at Eleanor, but he could mean anyone at this point - and that's what he aims for next.

Eleanor hollers at Graham, "How about YOU shoot the damned giant flyswatter and I can hit something less DODGEY!" She turns to swing her baking tray at one of the Charcoal Bombs.

August's imperative doesn't help Graham shoot better, but he hits the thing anyways. That's good because the next round of flaming charcoal nails him in the belly and down he goes. He's not down long, though; he levers himself up against the freezer case. Seeing that charcoal coming after Eleanor has him changing his tune. That's not happening. Oh no it is not. He's going to break it to pieces first.

The pineapples were helping them? Suddenly the fruit were the good guys again. Erin is doing her best to throw her fire at the non-consumables, but she's terribly distracted. Everyone seemed to be on their feet at least, but there's concern towards August while remaining somewhat close to Everett since he was a larger target at least. "I never imagined that pineapples would wield their own knife." It was Gray Harbor though, nothing much should have been a surprise!

A staggering blow taken by the giant. First concussed and left stunned, then perfect prey for the whirling dervish attack and clubs him in the head. Everett lifts an arm, trying to defend, but he's slow because of the one-two combination attack of the charcoal and the fly swatter. But giving his head a shake, Everett clears his vision and goes after the biggest target on the boss. It's all necked.

"Here." Graham holds the box of Kix down to August, specifically angling it so it sort of shields the nasty bit on the other guy's guts. "May it bring you as much luck as it has broughten me." He nods very gravely, then turns back to the fight. "'Kay," is his answer for Eleanor; he's on it.

Eleanor THWACKS the charcoal briquet with the baking pan, setting it up for August and Erin to finish off, even as it sends exploded shrapnel raking across her shin. "OW! August! Honey are you ok!?" she glances down to check on him and sees he's wounded. He. Is. Wounded. "Oh I don't THINK so!" She growls, and then charges at the last Charcoal Bomb with rage in her swing.

Graham attempts to discover if anyone will notice if he shoots this pineapple...

Cracking the flyswatter in the handle, Everett takes a sideways glance when its the pineapple's wound that's by far more grievous. With a death glare at having his kill taken, he looks around, wipes the blood oozing from his head wound from his eyebrows, and stalks towards the last remaining prey.

All of this is hitting a little too close to home. A lot too close, really. So August breaks the charcoal apart, nods at Eleanor to assure her that yes, he's okay, don't mind the blackened and bleeding everything. He'll be fine.

He doesn't have time to savor smashing up the charcoal going after Eleanor, because Stephnie gets clobbered by 409. he coughs, doubling over, makes his way to her. "Come on, girl, get on up."

One charcoal down, another to go. So far, she's just got a couple of light headwounds, nothing she can't deal with herself once she gets out of here. But Erin notices others in their team going down and when Stephanie gets hit, she frowns. "Are you alright?" Calling over to her, relieved when August goes towards her. She's concerned though!

Eleanor slams her baking sheet down on top of the charcoal menace, hearing it crunch with a satisfying sound of metal on pre-burned wood. She pants, eyes still wide with rage, then turns to go see to August's wounds. "Let me take a look," she tells him. That is not a request.

August isn't in any shape to deny Eleanor's help with his injuries. Hell he can barely get Stephanie on her feet. He nods wordlessly, peers as he notices some...bulletholes? in one of the pineapples that showed up to help. He gives Graham a bloodshot stinkeye.

It all happens quickly. Stephanie gets knocked out, revived then goes and hides behind the seafood counter, waiting for the aftermath of the fight.

With most of the fighting over, Erin looks over the rest of the group for battle wounds. August had Stephanie, Graham seemed none the worse for wear, but she does look over at each of them to see if they were all on their feet at least. "We need to help the fruit now, since they helped us. We should get to the meat are." That's concerning though! "I'd hate to fight a side of beef or anything."

Graham, with a shifty look at all these people, quietly puts the gun away and takes stock of his own relatively minor injuries. Cleaning products ate a hole in his shirt, and his leg's a little crispy, but hey; he's in good shape, AND no one can prove he shot that pineapple for absolutely no reason. He meets August's stinkeye with a super-bright smile - LOOK HOW PRETTY HE IS! - and asks, "Weren't we supposed to be going somewhere? Cold cuts or something?" He also smiles at Eleanor - LOOK HOW PRETTY HE IS! - and tacks on, "Hi."

Standing over the charcoal bag, Everett continues to smash his can into the flaming bag. Again. And Again. Over and over. Well after it stops moving. Only then does Everett stop and stares down at it, his face lit with the fire that's cast, dancing in his irises.

Thunk. The well and truely dented can of Campbell's heart healthy Chicken Noodle soup falls from his grasp while Everett stares, breathing heavily, and driping blood.

Eleanor lays her hands on the worst of the wounds to August's chest. One glance at the headwound tells her it's beyond her skill to help with. "We're going to need to find Lilith when we get back. I can't fix that one, love." Her power flows into the chestwound and closes it up. She gives Graham a LOOK then mutters back, "Hi. Thanks for taking care of the Flyswatter."

August sucks in his breath through his teeth, nodding as Eleanor heals up his chest. He inspects his belly, frowning at the loss of the shirt. But hey, spider tattoo remains intact. "It's fine, I've always wanted to get my hair cut different." He gets up, moving carefully, grimaces at Graham. He asides to Eleanor, "No, it's okay, we don't need Lil getting herself...Their attention. I can sleep it off." He pauses now and then to steady himself on a display.

"Yeah. Meat." He adjust his grip on his glass bottle of Coke. "Time to tenderize." And heads that way. Carefully.

Stephanie is barely able to pick herself up after the fight. She looks in rough shape. When Erin speaks up about helping the fruit, her expression looks like she agrees and she nods.

Graham takes Eleanor's LOOK as long as it includes HOW PRETTY HE IS. "Don't mention it," he answers back cheerfully, like he's a real public servant. He side-eyes all this psychic-healing she's doing, clearly twigged despite having just had a shoot-out with a flyswatter, and settles for a thumbs-up when everyone agrees that they're heading for meat. What happened to his box of Kix? If August left it behind, then he's gonna swing back, snag it, and then he's all set to lead the charge.

NB: Graham doesn't know his way around supermarkets very well, so someone else should probably be at the front of the column. Witness his, "Uhhhhm, I think this is the Mexican food aisle?"

Well, that's all Erin needed to hear, she looks over at August and Eleanor and quietly offers. "I can try and help if he would allow me to." She does meander over, concerned though for Stephanie and Everett. "As soon as we're clear of the danger here, I can help," she reiterates. For now though, the meat blobs need their attention.

Eleanor slings one of August's arms over her shoulders to help him walk, her eyes warily moving over the fogged frozen food cabinets as they go. When they reach the meat case and the 'derping' begins, she hollers, "OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" She narrows her eyes at Graham. "I think we've been played by a cantaloupe. If we get out of here, no one ever speaks of this again, agreed?"

August leans in close to Eleanor, eyes Erin warily. "Only if you feel like...taking that on." He grimaces, unable to blame anyone for preferring not to. Even if it means he has to convalesce with an excuse of 'the barbecue blew up on me'.

He stops when Eleanor does, stares at the meat. This isn't what he expected. Eleanor's shout has him wincing. "What the hell would they even want from them?" he wonders.

Everett stares at the meat. In their quivering, gelatinous ways. Then he gives Stephanie a look, since she's the one that started them marching this way, like it's her fault. He approaches the display and pulls from it a t-bone. Brining it close to his face, the gorilla gives it a once over. Then slaps it on the wound on his right leg, sighing contentedly as he turns around and leans against the display, feeling the coolness of the meat blob against the warmth of his injury, then watches everybody else speaking together.

Graham stops in his tracks, looking at what's in front of them... then looking at where they came from... then asks bluntly, "Wait, what the fuck just happened here? I thought we were..." He trails off, scratching the back of his head dimly. "Dude, I'm pretty sure that's how you get Trichinosis," he tells Everett from the midst of his own confusion.

Eleanor eyes the speaker with a scowl. "Oh come on, I'm not murdering poor, useless, derpmeat. That's just wrong."

"They need the meat to stuff the bell peppers." Erin says in an aside before looking more fully at August, "Of course, August. It's what I do," she offers more seriously. Then it's back to the meat and she doesn't quite know what to think about it all. "Kill the meat?" So she asks the meat. "Why does the fruit want you dead?" Like... it wasn't dead already.

Stephanie says nothing. Being the lone wolf personality type, she doesn’t expect people to understand her motivations, nor does she care to explain. To Everett, she simply says, “You didnt have to come with me.”

Graham shoots the loudspeaker, everyone. Like, it goes 'flame those carcasses!' and he goes 'pewpew' and that's the end of that particular loudspeaker. "I mean, I will." Murder the poor, useless derpmeat, he means. "I'm just not sure - " Yeah, he points at Erin with the barrel of the gun he was just using to shoot defenseless loudspeakers. "What she said. Why." Still, he puts away his gun (again) and starts rolling up what's left of his sleeves to make with the murdering.

"Oh for--fuck that," August says to the loudspeaker. He nods approvingly at Graham, muttering, "Damn straight."

Get Trichinosis? Everett can't even spell it. He glances again at Stephanie, this time less hostile,
To Graham, Everett grunts once, then peels the steak back from his wound and looks down at it, his own head slightly slanted, as if judging, for a second time if this was a good idea or not. When it says hello to him, in response to the other meats saying it, Everett puts the T-bone back against him. Because the muffled sounds of it repeating words won't be any less creepy.
With the gunshot, Everett looks at the target, then Graham. Then Erin.

August stares at the meat, which is attempting to communicate. At least, he thinks so, his head is kind of fuzzy. Almost none of it makes sense, but he does understand one part. (Maybe) He looks around, trying to find something with a four on it. Eventually, his gaze shifts back to the freezer cases. "Four," he says, and points at one.

Eleanor nods to August and she moves over to it alongside him. "Here goes nothing." And then she opens the door.

Graham has his sleeves up, and he's looking back the way they came again, scratching the back of his head more and commenting, "We should go get some of that charcoal from - " And then a vengeful pineapple comes tearing-ass in his direction, buzzes right by him, and he winds up scrabbling backward just in time to avoid taking a knife to the leg. "Oh, fuck this little asshole. Where's the rum aisle? We're definitely having pina coladas after this." This is the point at which Graham throws all his very limited caution to the wind and chases that fucking pineapple wherever it goes.

That's the last you guys are gonna see of him on this adventure, though he still has like five rounds left in his gun, so count 'em off. Bang... bang... bang bang... The last one comes amid sounds of a skirmish over yonder. Bang. "OW FUCK!"

Everett's own green eyes track four aisles down with the clue, 'go four'. But the freezers look closer and that means less walking. He sighs again, and checks his wound to see if its stopped bleeding, or it he's only managed to smother the steak. Then flings it back over his shoulder, to land haplessly among the other cuts not even in the same breed of meat. With effort, he stands and paces to a place where he can look in, over people's heads. Then he watches the sudden but inevitable betrayal... of Graham's betrayal.

The Goon sucks in air through gritted teeth and murmurs, "Could have used that gun," then turns his attention back To The Freezerrrrr.

So, the freezer case. Erin follows Eleanor over there not exactly sure what she's going to find there when it's opened. There's a wary look as she waits. "Hopefully not french fry or french toast stick daggers." She stays back enough to try and pull together some sort of shield, but she's not really good at that yet.