Waiting at the cashier's abandoned counter stands Cal, an alert but disheveled figure. His usually neat uniform is now tattered, with bite marks on his arms that suggest he’s tangled with something dangerously hungry. Cal's eyes search in response to perhaps that sound you made as you walked in. It's difficult to discern if Cal will try to stop you or not. He doesn't work here, after all. He's just another customer. But look at Cal's eyes—they’re not warm or welcoming—they’re empty, hollow, and somehow hungry. You feel a deep urge to pick up what you need anyway, but are you dank enough?