[ Is it weird that he's almost taking this in stride? Gone are the days of losing his shit and screaming about it, now he's weary and, yeah, a little paranoid, but it takes more than a blood-pact door and creepy-ass dreams to get him going.

Not that he's totally cool with any of this either, especially the bit where he's got a goddamned Curse hanging over his head and he hasn't run into anyone he knows from home so he's got the whole 'utterly alone' thing happening, but this isn't packs of demogorgons or Mindflayers or Vecna (yet) so, you know: priorities.

And it helps that the familiarity of a mall bolsters his confidence a little, makes him feel like if anyone's got an idea of how to navigate this place, it's him. ]

Oh man, let me tell you — kids puking up ice cream sucked, but that was the least of my problems.

[ Probably another story for another time though. He flips his gift card over, as though he pauses to examine the fine-print. ]

This place looks a lot like where I'm from. [ Old-timey? Please! It's the future! (Or his present.) They've got so much going for them. ] And if it is ... I mean, yeah, you can probably work your way through the mall — grab a new wardrobe, shoes, food ... but how long do we have here? Could be weeks. Months.

[ ... years.

Well, shit, that's a sobering thought. ]