Hank almost grabs one of whatever this guy’s eating, but nah. Let him be the guinea pig. What is spam even made out of? Especially here. Hank probably doesn’t want to know.

Luckily, there are more weird donuts. Hank likes donuts, almost has a good feeling about the one he’s just grabbed: covered in a chocolate cream with half a chocolate bar melted on. Whatever.

But then he hears the whole “over ten thousand and thirty-one someones” bit and, right when he gets to the best part of the donut — the chocolate bar! — Hank is choking.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Is this guy joking? He has no idea. Maybe? Hank is still spluttering chocolate, smacking his chest with his fist.

“How the hell did... I mean, was that all at once, or — you a serial killer or something?”

But that is still a hell of a lot of someones, and Hank finds himself eyeing this guy, trying to size him up. Figure out if he’s bullshitting.