[Sans shades for once and still with a blanket draped around his shoulders, Dave's expression is extremely flat and unamused.]

Yeah, the four of us are simultaneously having the same hungover hallucination. That's totally how alcohol works.

[His deadpan is made all the more snarky by the hangover and the bizarre situation he has too much of a headache to be dealing with. Dave rolls his eyes and gestures at the door.]

Okay, this is stupid. Clearly there's some kind of magic or mindfucky science at work here and only we're seeing this thing. Just accept that it's there and move on. What do we do about suspicious doors that appeared out of nowhere, short of barreling headfirst through them like a vapid little Victorian girl mindlessly chasing after the white rabit?