"Purple," Angela answers, then grimaces. "I guess I need to take another look."

Armed with Lysol, she opens the fridge again, spraying the mass until her eyes are starting to burn from the chemicals and she's satisfied that anything moving in there now very very dead. Cautiously, she prods it with the same gloved finger. "I think vegetable? It doesn't seem very, um, lively, anyhow. Lookl like it might be somebody's leftovers."