Joe's jaw dropped. Usually, he thought that the term jaw-dropping and the fact that characters' jaws dropped in cartoons was just a figurative sort of thing. But no, he needed to put his hand over his mouth because what the holy shit. He looked at Salem in a confused and helpless sort of way, flipping between looking at his friend and at the writing blackness coming from the hallway. "I knew you were haunted, I didn't wanna say it but I knew it this whole fucking time," he kind of whisper-whimpered, backing away from the spreading shadows.<br/><br/>"Salem," he said in quiet tone, looking calm for about half a second before he realized that the darkness was getting closer. "SALEM," he repeated, nearly shouting, eyes wide. "What do we do? What do we do? What do we DO?" He had never seen anything like this before. It was like a really bad oil spill except at a 90 degree angle, where it certainly couldn't happen. At least Joe couldn't think so. He hadn't seen a lot of things in his 22 years of life, and he would like to live much longer than that. Unfortunately, with this roiling mass of black coming towards them, he wasn't sure if they were going to.<br/><br/>"Why did you turn the light on?" he hissed. "You might've made it angry." He had actually no idea what it was, but something that black couldn't like the light. "Any windows that we can crawl out of or something, buddy?" he asked, eying the spread. It was gradual, but fast enough to be freak-out worthy.