Winter pivots away from the window, ears primed by now for any sort of quiet noise. "Did you h—"

The linchpin is glowing, now. They've found it, but the memory's not moving. Winter wanders carefully over to Presley, half expecting something to drop out of the ceiling or burst from a closet if she moves too noisily. She pokes the change jar. This isn't the first linchpin she's seen, but it's the first one that didn't solve the problem of being stuck. Of course it wouldn't be as simple as get and go in a memory as delicate as this one. "Why isn't it—Okay. Maybe...something in here's w-wrong and we have to...correct it?"