[there's probably buttloads of trays, plastic plates, bowls and utensils, but in the corner there may be one of those wheeled buckets and mop for janitors. probably useful? maybe?]

[of course hershel doesn't see that because he's not going to crowd the closet like an asshole, and just sigh softly to himself before turning to get a better look at the actual food. he picks up a pair of cans that don't seem to have any marking on them, turning back to jake.] It's a bit like what's it called, russian roulette? Who knows what you'll get. [and he pauses.] I suppose it's not like russian roulette at all, really. I hope these aren't just filled with gruel.