As far as 'official welcomes' went, Skulduggery had received better. He was silent and still for a long moment, mulling over the new bits and pieces of information. There wasn't enough to form any kind of rational conclusion, but what she was saying so far made a twisted kind of sense. She probably expected it to make perfect sense, but Skulduggery wasn't from around these parts, and hadn't the first clue what any of it meant. Was this a prison, rather than a hospital? Would he be able to find the warden and explain that this was all a big misunderstanding, and he shouldn't be here?

Most likely not. In Skulduggery's experience, things were rarely that straightforward.

He did, however, completely understand what living through death felt like. He could still remember, with painful clarity, his own torturous death and the mysterious resurrection afterwards. The mix of emotions that hit straight afterwards, brutal and overwhelming; the lack of any emotion for even longer after that. So when the woman looked him in the eye and told him that she had died from those wounds, Skulduggery believed her.

Filing away the rest of the information for further study, Skulduggery took a careful step towards her. "You said I couldn't help you unless I had healing abilities, implying that there are people here who do. If you have any idea how to find one of them, I can help you get there. Otherwise, at least let me help you somewhere you can rest. You can barely walk." He hesitated a split second, considered trying a smile - a real, physical smile - but decided that he wanted more practice first. "My name is Skulduggery Pleasant."