[will is will, so instead of making note of the fact that being a pizza bike boy is sort of a weird job, he just looks beyond impressed.] That's cool. You have a job. A real one, not just like...mowing lawns like Lucas does. Do you have to pay taxes?

[the question actually makes will stop for a moment, right in his tracks, surprised. his last time here in deerington was -- well, to him it was only moments before waking up again, but it's still fuzzy and hazy. just like his memories of the past few days in hawkins -- a mess of fog with a few things in utter clarity.

he can remember how awful here was, sometimes. how many horrible things happened, how he was just as scared as he'd been in the upside-down. and then, also, how being scared and on the run became a sort of comfortable, because he knew he could do it. middle school in hawkins was a horrible unknown, but hiding from monsters? easy-peasy.]

No, I...don't think I was here long enough. I came when people were still figuring this place out. I...don't really know how long I've been gone.

[a pause, then, softer:] I'm happy I can remember it, though. It's not so scary the second time.