Logically, Chris knew that he wasn't supposed to panic. Panic did bad things to people, made them die in situations they could've come out of alive had they not panicked. He'd read the spiel, had been given training classes and lectures on this, knew this almost instinctively. When in a situation, don't panic, remain calm and figure a way out.

However, this wasn't a fire or a natural disaster or anything he had been trained for. This was him, trapped in a damn magic garden, with no one but Sunny knowing where he was (and she had told him to be safe, damn it) and a high possibility of him dying. So Chris panicked and panicked hard.

The stone walls enclosing the garden were too tall for him to climb and the gate the same, so he took to shaking it as hard as he could. When that didn't give him any results, he started slamming his weight against it, gritting his teeth against the growing pain in his shoulder. He'd rather have a broken arm than whatever this garden could offer, and the gate would have to budge at some point.

It only took him a few extra slams to realize something was actively whispering at him and he paused in his abuse on the gate, strained his ears to listen.

"Stop, STOP- Good."

Great. Another creepy thing to talk to.

"What are you? Did you lock me in here? I'd like to leave."

There was a pause and then a vine seemed to shift on the gate, curling tighter around the wrought iron and Chris could only barely suppress a grimace. Yep, this was something Autumn would've been suited to.

"You like it here. You should stay and tend." The voice was raspy, soft, the sentences just barely broken and Chris actually frowned this time. This was going to be a mess, if he didn't handle this correctly.

"I do," He answered carefully, thinking his next thought through. "I have other.. plants I need to tend to though. And you've done a lovely job here on your own."

The vines on the gate shifted a little more, then answered "Still, you'd be suited here. Stay."

This wasn't good, what now? Chris chewed on his lip, trying to think. This was a thing of the otherworld though and what he had learned was there was always, always, a deal to be made. Trades were accepted, a fact of life, and there was one here he could make. He had seen it as he had walked the garden, even if he hadn't made much note of it though. It had paled in comparison to all the new but now, it was a comfort.

"Would you let me go if I gave you tea?"

The air of stubbornness around the vines gave way to a lighter air of thoughtfulness and Chris breathed easy. "Tea? You will make tea?"

"Yes," He promised, and then added, "If you teach me how to get home, I'll even make you two types."

There was another minute of consideration and then finally: "Accepted. Please, make your tea."

Chris turned on his heel and stalked back through the garden, eyes now focused for the familiar. Mint, chamomile, nettle, the basics for his normal blends. It was only two of his many and he didn't have any fruit, but they would do he hoped. It didn't take him long to put them together anyways and he awkwardly sorted the piles within his jacket that he pulled out of his bag. It would have to do.

"Here, I have them," He placed the jacket on the ground, stepping back from it for a second. A second later a lizard appeared (and, with an unhappy snort, Chris realized it was the one from before with the apple) and dragged the jacket away. There was another awkward minute and then the jacket reappeared, bereft of the leaves, and Chris thanked whatever gods were looking out for him that he got his jacket back.

"These are acceptable. Thank you, Tall one. To get home, go find a flower. But not with your eyes, close them. Walk and find what calls to you."

It took him a minute but, rather baffled, Chris walked the garden with his eyes closed. Eventually, his hands found something and he pulled a bloom into his hands, opening his eyes at it. A yellow rose. It only took him a second to make it back to the gate, where he had the flower for view to.. whatever he was talking to.

"..A good, if odd choice. Now, when you step out, believe you will find yourself back. That is all."

With little fanfare the gate swept open and Chris closed his eyes, clenched his hand shut, and walked through it.