and here I was thinking I would never find a place with worse weather than Maine.

( not that he was there long... just long enough to know it was rather miserable. he can only imagine how cold it could get with actual winter, and well, he doesn't suspect it's half as bad as this. it's easier to complain about the chill than it is to complain about being trapped. again. )

usually I'm not one to take census, but it could be useful here
how many of us are there? does anyone have any idea how we got here, or more importantly, how to get out?
because I need a way out, and quickly.

( things were dire back in Storybrooke, and he may not be in the possession of the magic bean anymore, but he knew more about the island than most. he wanted to help save Henry. it was too late to make amends with Baelfire, but it seemed a fitting tribute to try and save his son. he's more than motivated to find a way out, so he's reaching out. it'll be easier if he's not fighting on his own. )

how far has anyone traveled? the weather is wretched, but I might be able to get a map together, know what houses are best for staying in. not all of them are built the same.

( and one last, rather bleak reminder: )

make sure you're inside when those bloody doors lock.

( he's not sure how it happened. he's usually smarter than this. survival is supposed to be the only thing he's good at, and yet here he is. in a coat that is not thick enough for this weather, watching the snow fall, and knowing there's no way he'll live to see the morning.

he's spent so long getting so close to death and avoiding it all the same. usually it all happens so quickly he can't think and can't worry about it catching up to him. it's only after the fact that he realizes how close it was. not this time, no, as his body gets progressively colder he gets to think on everything he regrets. everything he's done, and all the things he wishes he hadn't. three hundred years leaves plenty of time for regrets.

he's built a lacklustre wall of snow to try and protect him from the wind, but nothing will protect him from the temperature. he's cold enough now that he's not shivering, anymore... which is more alarming than comforting. he's tried too many doors, walked far enough he's not sure he can get any farther. his fingers are stiff with cold and a little blue as he plucks at the keys to the tablet. )

what happens when you don't make it inside in time?