[ At the sound of her voice, he turns from staring up at the mountain of soil blocking their exit to look at her. Amos gives her an appraising, emotionless stare, watching her now that she's awake. Now that she is not back on all of her feet. Now that she does not have a weapon in her hands.

He stares at her for a long moment, cold and empty, and then shrugs. ]

Fuck if I know. Think we're trapped in here now. Someone up above must've knocked this thing over.

[ Frustration creeps into his voice; he should not be so small that someone kicking a cup over could render him helpless. It's bullshit. All of this is bullshit—

But he has the bell tucked under one arm, already helping Zenith towards claiming the Oracle. A week and change and they'll be out of this, and he'll be better off for it.

His voice smooths over as he regards her again. ]

Can you move at all?

[ Kind of something he's going to need to know as he stands back, watching her; as his grip on the bell reflexively tightens. ]