Hank almost smiles a little when Accelerator scowls, but he shouldn’t. Damn, he really should not.

His lips twitch, though. Can’t help that.

“Deadly, huh. Well, that’s just fuckin’ great.”

He lifts his donut and gestures to the people around them. If Hank didn’t know better, he might even call this weird smorgasbord a merry little affair. Most of the people he’s seen so far seem to be adjusting okay, albeit dazed. He hasn’t spotted anyone trying to jump someone else. No knives — or knives turned into lobsters — have been turned on someone else, from what he can tell.

It’s been oddly quiet for a place so apparently deadly. Like the calm before a storm.

“Between these missions, do you just... live? Mingle? Wait till the next time you might die?”

It feels like a stupid question, but this whole situation is weird. The waiting around seems hard, like sitting on the edge of his seat with teeth clenched, until finally... what? An opportunity to prove himself? To die?

A final bite of his donut, then: “What if someone refuses to do the missions? Just plops their ass down, and... nothin’?”