As you kick open the door, the scent of stale beer and must fills your nose. The back room is a large storage area, where Mid keeps his cheap beer and milk. It's filled with the constant hum of the giant fridge that keeps his wares cold, barely muffled by the solid oak. Jack had once offered to make it into a sort of 'batcave' for the group, but the scent of the place and the crampedness had soon made the idea worthless. Currently, however, quite a spectacle was taking place in the old room, and for a moment it makes Alexel unsure if he'd suffered more serious trauma than he'd thought.
The hysterics indeed were coming from Jake, although he seems to be perfectly fine. He'd breathing heavily, shotgun in hand and eyes red, obviously he'd been crying. Not a very manly thing to do, but then again, he'd just seen his neighbor's daughter's head fly across the street. His hair's untidy, his hands clenched, but what truly shows how distraught he is is hs set of signed Batman playing cards, which had fallen out of his pocket and apparently been trampled. Jack would have given his life for that deck, and took it everywhere he went.
"You fucking monster! Oh fucking hell! Stop acting like that!" A stack of barrels obscured the person Jack was talking to, and his screams drowned them out if they were even talking back. However, a small movement reveals the target of Jack's rage. Bruised and battered, leaning against a wall, sits Mr Winters in his silly Destroyer hat, a modified balaclava, begging for his life. "You killed Elsie, you piece of crap!" Jack's hands are trembling as he aims the shotgun at the pensioner, who is on his knees, shivering and crying.