You look like hell, you poor thing. Your hair is a wreck and you’ve been crying. “What are you trying to do to me, Joe?” “I’m here, it’s okay.” You look at the computer I set up and you shriek again and clap your hands over your ears. I don’t understand because Pitch Perfect is your favorite but I fucked up and forgot to hit PLAY. The intro screen has been repeating since you woke up, which appears to have been a long time ago.
I just spat
