A somber expression replaces her confusion, and she crouches down with him, not at all encumbered by his holding her leg. She moves with preternatural grace, an innate dancer. Long red hair tumbles forwards, the deep colour shadowing her face.

"A power that can pluck a soul from Hades is one to fear,", she murmurs, very seriously. "He does not lightly give up that which is his due. Are you certain of this?"

Oh, but she wants it to be true, despite her fears. If she lives, perhaps her beloved is also here.