When the light fell on her and what she could only assume was a young man's voice called out, Donna stopped her walking and peered through the darkness, calling back, "Prisoner's one way of putting it."

Her own torch made it's way to him, keeping low as well since she had no real reason to blind someone she didn't know (yet), and found by his pants that he was dressed as a patient would be. That left he no reason to doubt that he was a patient, at least for Donna's mind. Only a person who didn't have any other option would be wearing that terrible outfit.

"You lost?" Or maybe new. "Prisoner" wasn't exactly what most of the patients would have called each other by, but that didn't mean it wasn't on the list. Still, she didn't want to assume.