Water had got into the instant coffee tin.
Mike sat against the door watching Jared chip a spoon against encrustations like a jilted lover wielding an icepick.
"It's shit like that puts me about two steps away from a rampage," said Mike.
Jared laughed, putting the carbuncled tin aside.
They sat instead with cups of tea, eked thinly from the last bag.
"Dwindling supplies," said Jared, "are not great for our prospects."
From the office beyond came a sharp staccato bark like a backfiring car. A collection of whimpering screams followed.
"Most of these end in suicide you know."
"Y'think we should get out?" Mike cast a look at the window.
"Depends if Harry hated us specifically. We could escape unscathed."
Grabbing a knife, Jared cracked the door.
He smiled. "I say carpe diem, settle some scores. Who's to know?"
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