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Where the universe is concerned, Olaf doesn't generally question its choices. Bad things happen. Good things happen. Strange things happen, but usually it all fits together in the larger pieces of the puzzle. It's why he doesn't really do so much more than shrug when instead of walking into Mike's bar, he walks into a party in full swing where he doesn't recognize a single guest.

It's not like this is the first time it's happened to Olaf. Generally, him recognizing someone in a crowd full of people is usually a start. Still, he has learned to go with the stranger events in the universe and no one's died as a result of this little left turn, so he grabs the joint he'd tucked away behind his ear and drifts into the throng of people, observing the summer-like nature of the party from the vibrant drinks to the decorations to the clothes everyone's wearing. Really, this could very well still be Auckland for all he knows and whatever he took earlier had been laced stronger than usual, but Olaf's sort of getting the feeling there's more to it than that.

With no shoes and a Hawaiian shirt fit for a king, Olaf feels like he fits right into the breezy, summer theme of the party around him. He might not know how he got here, but Olaf's never turned down a good party. This one holds a great deal of promise.

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The scoff Isaac gives is pretty devoid of anything. If this place can somehow pick up on your thoughts and your current living situation and it can pick up on what you've been doing at home, then he is not looking forward to the broken glass and the broken pipes and the general mess his life seems to keep falling into. "Stuck?" he echoes. "Wait, you can't leave?" he asks; not for his sake, but when that full moon rolls around, he kind of doesn't want a lot of people around.

He might have control, but if he got here, then the alphas can get here and what happens then? They've nearly killed him more than once, already.

"Apparently not right now, I can't," April replied, her smile tense as she swallowed. "But they say it's different for everybody. That's why I kept harping on you trying the door."

When she shrugged, the movement was a little stiff, as if she were forcing herself to stay nonchalant.

"And it's probably temporary anyway, so you know. The way my stomach wants to tie up in anxious knots about it is probably pointless, and I'll laugh about it later."

He feels guilty about not trying, even though he still doesn't want to know where it would lead; maybe Beacon Hills and maybe it'll put him right back in the middle of a storm. Who knows? "We could try," he offers, because there's a part of him that's always going to want to avoid conflict like this, the old lessons his father beat into his skull. "My door, any door. If you want?"