When: Time is fluid. (i.e. anytime)
What: Dude's gotta eat, y0!
Foreman's fork hung, suspended over the mystery meat of the day and mashed potatoes covered in the equally mysterious gravy. And why they had decided that lima beans would be a good addition to the meal, he'd never know, and so they lay, pushed as far away from the rest of the food and looking mushy. Very mushy.
The newest copy of the European Journal of Neurology was propped up in front of him, resting on the napkin dispenser. Down here, there usually wasn't any interruptions, making it easy for him to blend in. Of course, Foreman would blend in until his pager went off, and then he would be outed, put on display as he rushed through the cafeteria to the exit, running to see what emergency awaited him.