'Not sure--?' the lass echoed, naturally beginning to trail along with him. Despite her earlier caution, she was less preoccupied now with where to put her feet, and kept her worried face craned up toward Alastor as they walked, one hand still clinging to her flickering flame and the other clutching the coat closed at her chest. (She would have tried to give it back, but she suspected she knew what his response would be.) Her quiet distress only became more pronounced as she watched how stiffly he moved, listened to the casual description of a broad spread of potential timelines. Weeks, even.

"But-- why?" His chains were obvious enough, yet their source, the reason for their existence... Well, Hell was all about punishment, and yet it had sounded like he'd always wandered free in it before. So of course she had to wonder, "Did someone put you here?"