Suppose so, Wrench concedes. He's not so certain himself that this isn't all one extended coma or strange passage into the afterlife. The concept of redemption still looms heavy overhead, but before he can think to even consider whether it's possible, he thinks he'd have to work out in his mind what it looks like. The idea is such a foreign one to him that it's no wonder his ScryWatch hasn't made much progress.

More than anything, these journeys feel a bit like a playground. The mall especially, now that he bothers himself with looking around, feels like stepping into a world he's always held at a distance. It's as if he's been given the chance to move straight through the middle of something he's always held himself at the fringes of. That isn't entirely without merit.

You might need to apologize to the door back there then, he smirks, as if to remind Logan of the most recent cage he tried to cut himself from. But when the shorter man swats at him for his attention, Wrench turns his gaze on the store he's been hoping to find. Through the glass windows, he can see racks of duck cloth jackets in shades of brown and green. Hanging from one wall is a display of bib overalls, and on a near table, a shiny display of wedge boots awaits them.

Finally, some quality, Wrench says almost reverently as he beelines for some thermal boot socks.