"Eleven months..." when it hadn't even been more than a moment to cram all that in his head, apparently. She tries to imagine the Faceless Ones, mostly pictures Friday as a giant twisted monster for lack of other description he gives. "And they hurt you?" she's still trying to make sense of what exactly happened to him, what he must have experienced.

She's trying to comfort herself just as much, that it is him, that he's safe and he's here (and even there the Skulduggery that isn't hers managed to get away) and Ava absolutely isn't ready to let go out of fear he'll somehow become the hallucination and slip away from them again. She's quiet as Max steps away, her gaze not leaving his path, unwilling to lose sight of him too.

"That wasn't planned for you you, just imposter you," she claims at the return of Max and the bag. "I was a stealth operative, you know, I know how interrogations are meant to go. Not like this. Turns out it's a lot harder to carry through when it's somebody you love." And she's just going to keep on going as if she didn't just confess that.

"So you trust him. The Captain? What he claims, that it was an accident. And not another way to mess with you?" Because if Skulduggery's judgement that she usually trusts has been so compromised, she's not so certain.