Apparently, Marx didn’t get the memo though, because he leans down to pet Hoot like the atmosphere around him isn’t ripe as hell and dangerous. The moment Marx realizes that he’s made a huge mistake, will live rent-free in my mind forever. One minute, Marx is reaching for the adorable little furball that he thinks the rest of us rudely abandoned, and the next, he’s inhaling and then seriously wishing he hadn’t. He gags and slams back against the wall as though making himself as flat as possible against it will make the reek go away.
