( She does manage to get the page away from him so Steve, now empty-handed, crosses his arms across his chest and settles into a pose more appropriate for a forty-five-year-old father of three than an eighteen-year-old kid. )

Yeah, clues. As in, you know, ways to get the hell out of here. I don't know if you've noticed? But I didn't exactly sign up for this Dungeons and Dragons crap.

( He knows, deep down, that this is not just some "Dungeons and Dragons crap." He's no expert but he can guess that playing games in silly costumes doesn't usually include kidnapping and the kind of bone-deep pain that only comes with something very, very bad and very, very unnatural.

This is something else entirely.

The thing is, he's so tired of something-else-entirelies that he'd rather act like a stubborn jackass and refuse to believe the evidence that's right here in front of him. At least for a minute. )

And anyway, ( he goes on, arms still folded firmly across his chest, ) I don't care about any kind of reward, unless it's a one-way ticket to Hawkins.

( And with that, the first cracks in his stubborn facade start to show, because he has a feeling they're nowhere near Hawkins, and thus must clarify — )

Uh. Indiana.