Alright, alright— just, you know... just saying. Let's eat some toast.

[Somehow, the elbow nudge sells it. The nudge of weird little guys having a weird time and making toast to cope, perhaps. Junpei finds a spatula, giving it a look for its flowery pastel handle - not because he's anti-florals, but again: this feels like somebody else's house - and sets it on the counter. After another moment he starts to sort the salts and peppers into separate piles, for something to fidget with in the interim.]

I've been sleeping on the couch. It sucks, but it could suck worse.

[And oh yes, the spam,] You know, I've eaten suspicious canned meat before. I can hack it.