He hears the whirling, but doesn't think much of it. It seemed to be getting progressively harder to think of much of anything outside of his stomach, actually. Something he would have spent more time and worry on if, again, there wasn't the hunger issue. He doesn't even know what he's craving, just hopes the gift shop will have it.

He pauses just outside the stairway door as he reached the floor, rolling one oddly stiff shoulder than the other as he tries- and fails- to focus up.

Man, he hates this place a little more every moment.