"At least, yeah." He can't get any more specific than that. He knows people who've been here longer than he has, but none of them seem to be experts at how the place works; not like the veterans are.

The mansion doors are open. There's a tear just inside, but it's vague, static clouding whatever might be unspooling in the world within. He stumps past it without a second glance. He doesn't need to know what else might be lingering in other people's worlds.

There are kitchens on the ground floor, which is preferable - he'd rather not hike up five flights of stairs like this. It only takes a moment to fetch out a water bottle, loosen the cap with a deft twist of his wrist, and suck down half of its contents.

There. He's drank something.