[ thom huffs out a sigh that's equal parts amused and exasperated and runs his free hand through his hair in a move that on someone else might result in their hair becoming artfully disarrayed but just makes thom look plain disarrayed. ]

Me neither. Not much call or space for mazes where I was growing up. [ not this sort of maze, anyway. small ones made of cardboard and plastic for the kids at the community center, sure, but thom can't remember the last time he's gone through one himself.

still, what louis is saying does ring a little bit of a bell for thom, and he starts nodding slowing, reaching out his own hand to press to the hedgerow thoughtfully. ] That's for labyrinths, I think. Not sure if it applies to other mazes, but it's not like I have any better ideas, so--

[ his voice trails off suddenly as he pulls his hand back from the wall of the maze to find that the place that he'd set his hand is now dead and brown, where it had once been alive and green. he glances worriedly between his open palm and the perfect palm print of dead or dying foliage and tries to wrap his head around what he's seeing. ]