Abel Lazarus
To say Jack had been lurking was something of a redundancy. Slinking around was his default state of being, and in times like these it paid off handsomely. Or it would, if he came at this just right.
Would he have set his sights on the first plate to grace a cafeteria table? Quite possibly, just for the heck of it. But for this to be the guy who ate his stew? A little poetic vengeance couldn’t have possibly had a better setup.
And the guy—whose name… probably started with… B? Maybe?—was even stupid enough to obviously distract himself. Unless this was a trap! …In which case, Jack had nothing better to do, anyway. Bring it.
He stepped silently to his starting place, steeled himself, and pelted for Abel’s table. Swiping the plate at just the right angle to keep whatever weird food was on it from sliding off, he never even came to a stop—at least, not in the cafeteria. But before he’d gone too far…
“It’s delicious! Thank you!”
Oh, so apparently he could even remember exact words if it was just out of spite. Fantastic.
