"You won't believe me if I tell you," Rebekah informs her, matter-of-fact as she watches the girl slowly pull herself together, tears shining brightly on the young witch's face. She purses her lips, reaching to pull a handkerchief from one of her pockets, offering it by simply extending her hand.

"I'll give you a moment to get your bearings first. I stormed around the place shouting for some form of retribution after I woke up; it didn't do me much good. I'm sure you can begin to imagine what sort of place this must be if I didn't make much headway." She offers the girl a wry half-smile, the boast itself tongue-in-cheek and yet with some degree of truth to it.

"Are you hurt?"