The Bull crawls. He watches his hands, the green shade all washed over them bizarre, not just in the normal way - just because it's unnatural, a spirit straight from the Fade here casting it - but because it's that and it's a gift, unnatural and freaky and he's grateful for it, all at once.

He braces himself. He risks looking up from his hands at the ceiling again. Still not great, but sloping up. Maybe if he stands, maybe if he isn't crawling on the floor like an animal, maybe this purposeless thing inside him will loosen up its senseless hold a little.

He overestimates, puts a tiny little hint of weight on his left leg instead of none, and cuts off his startled, pained noise just as straightens too far, horns hitting the rock above hard again. He leans against the left wall. His right shoulder doesn't brush the wall when he moves this way, almost feels like there's space over there if he doesn't look at it. His head, next to one of those cracks in the wall now, hangs and his breaths come heavy, deep, only a little fast.

"I hear you," he says, belatedly.

Another thought then, a second later. He has to ask. "That hallway. It leads away from here? Into another part of-" He pauses, and his words come back a little fainter. He should have finished the question all in one shot. Shouldn't have given himself an instant to imagine what it's actually going to be like, getting left here. "-of wherever the crap we are?"

Dorian's looking around. It's a good thing. Figuring how to get out. At least one of them should be able to get out.