"He could bleed on it, personally I'd find that pretty distracting," Trace offered up. "Although, hey, while we're in the topic, what exactly is it?" He'd also like to know who Bodybuilder was, but Other Boy seemed to know him, so he probably wasn't lurking around the high school for any nefarious reasons. Well, nothing more nefarious than redecorating the linoleum with his blood, which was pretty insane if that was his goal.
Two leading statements wondering who he was meant he should probably give some kind of an answer. "I'm Trace. I have no opinion on piƱa coladas, but I do enjoy getting caught in the rain," he said, rattling off the introduction he may or may not have practiced in order to be seen as witty (he had very little to do on the drive down last month, okay?). Then he nodded toward the phone Other Boy had been holding. "Did you send an SOS to animal control?" he asked, mostly sarcastically.
Fellow Redhead finished her laying on of hands or whatever she'd been doing and pronounced Bodybuilder now moveable, so Trace moved forward to help. "So are we trying to run, barricading ourselves in a janitor's closet, or arming ourselves with shrapnel from shop class?" he asked of the group at large. Trace was in no possible way a leader, that took a degree of decisiveness he wasn't generally capable of achieving.