She nods. It's hard to think about anything other than the sheer violence of a situation when you're in it. Philosophy and worth and value all get washed over by the sounds of bones breaking and blood dripping, people gurgling for breath. If it doesn't elicit horror, it invokes something else - apathy, almost. Detachment. And when your mind's stormy enough, apathy's pretty tempting.

Her head's been stormy for twelve years now. That's a lot of time to crave peace.

"Were you alone? Or was Fuyu with you?" She asks it quietly, so he knows that if he doesn't want to answer he doesn't have to. She's the one in prison, after all.