Anything could be worse. We could find some kinda space rabies, some facehuggers, more of that pink stuff...

[The list is endless, as long as you ditch your optimism at the door. But that's easy. He can do that any time, and it won't help them. Hank tries to think past it, pressing the heel of a hand against his head.]

But uh, okay, so. You taken a look at any of these doors yet? They all look locked, and the power's only on in the kitchen. What do you know about picking space locks?