He shrugs a little and reconsiders those big glass doors. Then considered his ScryWatch and waggles his wrist in front of him. "It might. But I'd be willing to bet this thing might bust you down a peg— whatever that means." So far as he knows, no one's fallen of the bad-o-meter yet. Whether that means there's more or less reason to fear it, he hadn't decided.

"Do malls have holding cells?" Christ, this place makes him feel old somehow.

In one fluid motion he snaps his fingers and points at Wrench. "Workwear," he nods. If they're going to be stuck here there had to be some sort of refuge for the damned. "I could stand to change out of these PJs. And get the hell away from the foodcourt. The smella fried food and floor cleaner don't sit right with me."