"We were in the pit for a month before he was dropped in ours," he mumbles. His face is ashen, eyes dulling even as he talks, even and quiet. "We... we thought it was temporary. Until they stopped giving us food."

He's not trembling, and that's somehow worse. He's just... cold. "We held out as long as we could, until... until we touched this braid he was always carrying, b-by accident, and we realised... this wasn't the first time Faust had been moved. So we took initiative."

He can taste it in his mouth, indistinguishable from the ringing in his skull. "When we touch a dead body, when John sees it happen, it. It hurts him. A-a-and we had... we had so much to eat, b-before it went to rot." Before even Arthur wouldn't be able to stomach it.