Control. A game. Maybe pointless, random, but maybe specific, for a reason. Theories already swirling, making the air thicker as his skin crawls and it takes restraint only granted to someone who, in his crueler ways preferred to play the long game and draw out the suffering of his victims. He's changed a lot in the over year long play of the multiverse's game, but he's still was who he'd always been under it all. He redirected the things he felt into something favorable to that world and it was advantageous for him there. But this place is different and his suspicions are on fire as slowly it sinks in, down to his bones, just how everything about this was worse than what he'd known before.

Sam's point about how long they were in the fountain makes something in his stomach twist. Oh. No, he doesn't like that line of thought at all, and he hadn't considered it until now. The dark-haired one leaned against the wall is agreeable, and the Australian bird wasn't necessarily wrong.

He's scanning the room, eyes on all their faces, ears as tuned as possible to opinions that come with crowds faced with questions in a group this wide, varied.

Then they land on her. The huntress. Jo. "What do you think?" She knew the way these places were, how they operate, what makes them tick. The games, the experiments, the chance, the loss. Everything that gets twisted up in the whole of it all. "You were one of the one's who found it, yeah?"