Hopper didn't have the answer. He remembered being there, looking at Joyce, watching her move to turn both keys at the same time by using her belt to lasso one of them. He knew it was all over the but the shouting.
And then he was here, in this place. Which really led creedence to the idea what it was either some kind of death dream, or purgatory after death. Whatever it was, it was starting to feel creepy as fuck.
Alcohol would make it all better. Hopper led the way into the dimly lit establishment. The aroma of stale beer, nuts, and piss was a homecoming of sorts. Before he'd taken Eleven to the cabin, a bar just like this was where he spent most of his time. On, or off, the time clock.
"I'm starting to feel better about this place already." He wasn't, but. He wasn't going to admit his concerns and risk upsetting Steve.