The term "ma'am" is foreign to her, even in her native tongue, and she wonders what it means - but not enough to ask. The rest of his words are wondrous and terrifying, and her hazel eyes are wide as they meet his red ones.

"I do not know how to feel about this," she admits, still crouched by his side, her ankle held captive in his hand. She's perfectly balanced, poised yet relaxed. His skin is very warm, so she thinks she believes him about not being in the Underworld - at least, not the one she expected to be in. She still clutches her map and communicator, their uses unknown to her. "I know only now, and some of before. What purpose do we serve? Is it merely to wait? If we are alive, which of the gods do we thank?"