"Obviously," Dustin says quickly with a shake of his head. He had no reason to assume they did - he was just looking for a diversion and found a bad one. How embarrassing. Suddenly very interested in escaping this conversation, Dustin scoots out of his chair, plate in hand. "Well, whatever. It's not like it matters anymore anyway. We're probably never going back home after this."

He hadn't intended for that to sound so callous, but it's out in the open now, and, well, he means it. Dustin keeps his eyes fixed on his hands.

"Tired of peanut butter," he mumbles. "Maybe stuff at the other end of the table will taste different."