"Yes, but what kind of rooms?" Skulduggery asked once he had his breathing back under control. "Are there, for instance, bathrooms or changing rooms? Unless your destination is fairly important, in which case, I suppose mirrors can wait." He wondered how time passed in alternate realities. Was there simply perpetual darkness, or would a sun eventually rise? Was there any point in trying to do things quickly? All questions he could have asked the young woman, but he wasn't sure what constituted as 'normal' anymore, and until he had a better idea, he wanted to try and keep a low profile.

"You haven't told me your name, by the way," Skulduggery pointed out as he held up one hand to scan the air ahead. Whether names meant anything in this reality, he didn't know, but she hadn't seemed surprised to hear his. That had to count for something. And would it really matter if she had no idea what he was talking about? For all Skulduggery knew, up was down and left was right, in which case it might be better if she learned how clueless he was from the beginning.

He took a moment to examine his own thought process, slightly surprised. Skulduggery was afraid. Of what, he wasn't sure; it might have been the flesh and blood body he was unceromoniously shoved into and had no idea how to control. Or it might have been that part of him still expected to see a Faceless One shamble around one of these corners, its torrent of impossibilities threatening to drive him mad with a single glance. Whatever the reason, Skulduggery couldn't deny the fear that coiled in the pit of his ribcage - the pit of his stomach, he corrected automatically - pushing its way into his thoughts and transforming them into nonsensical pieces of rubbish.

Skulduggery made a conscious effort to drag that fear back down as he pushed himself off the wall. He'd had centuries of practice burying emotions he neither needed nor wanted, and he wasn't about to let this bizzare situation undo all of that effort.