[ There's no harm in not having played games as a kid. Or having played games as an adult in this case. People lived drastically different lives so it would make sense, at least in Bob's mind, that the games someone could play over their lifetime would be limited. Especially if their immediate priorities in life were say, trying to get through the day or avoiding an abusive dad.

There's a time and place for things though and games are no exception to that. Especially now in this particular situation when he can feel the panic that he had managed to keep a tight(ish) lid on begins to bubble again as the Void (what else could it be) glides ever closer. It's strange that Jack doesn't seem concerned. Or it would be strange to Bob were he not completely horrified at the sight of an ever widening smile. His grip tightens around the box, the edges of it crumpling in an almost unnatural way at his touch. His fear is whispered, and therefore probably not even intended to be heard but it manages to squirm past his lips. ]

I don't think we can fight it.

[ But thank god (haha?) Jack is here with his stedfastness. His gaze never falters, half-hypnotized, half-horrified at the personification of every worst part of him following them so it's very much up to Jack to get them out of there. A part of him feels responsible, to ensure that nothing will happen to Jack while he's there - but he also fears that he won't be able to do anything. It's only once they're back outside and the light drizzle of rain hits his face that he seems to register Jack is talking to him. His eyes, somewhat unfocused, settle back on him and he offers him a nervous laugh. ]

I probably would have had a tough time figuring that one in a game of charades. [ And then belatedly. ] I-I'm Bob.