"..It's been like six hours. Pretty sure you'd be one of the first to go insane in a societal collapse." He casts a glance toward the clock on his bedside table. Okay, maybe it's been a little longer than that. It definitely doesn't feel as late as the neon numbers say it is. Rubbing the grit from his eye he ducks back into his window, crossing his arms atop the sill.

Late enough in the evening everyone should be asleep. He can't hear anyone moving about in the hall, but he may not have noticed in the first place. It's not as if he wants Sal to worry about his dad, he's a good guy. A good guy who Carl has demanded not be weird about his friend he made at school whose face might be more fucked up than his. They haven't exactly swapped stories or peeks under the wrapping yet.

That's definitely the second base of friendship, right?

"Do you.. uh. Want to come in, or are you working on your slasher vibes?"