Maybe half an hour passes between Greg jogging away and puffing back. It took him a tiny bit longer than he was hoping, but judging by the size of his pack it's no shocker.

The objective observer may look at the mishmash of belongings Greg gathered and think he'd grabbed them at random from his storage unit. They wouldn't be far off the mark, either; as a distinctly mundane human interacting with magic, Greg had learned that the most innocuous and unexpected items could come in handy in a pinch. (Also, he'd found Onion rummaging around after having broken in somehow, and had to grab it away from the sticky-fingered gremlin.) On top of hiking gear and food, he'd loaded himself up with some scuba gear, an old shiny whistle, a broken cuckoo clock, two tennis rackets, a slinky toy, some glass doodad he couldn't remember how to use, a bongo drum... and plenty more. It was a wonder he could move with it all weighed on his back and belt, let alone run.

"Lapis? Hey Lapis! I'm back! It's me! I got... hopefully everything... we'll see. You okay? Ready?"