"No idea." Should she sound so unconcerned about that?

"We're forcing the scenario to reset." One thing she's learned about this place, after all, is that each little pocket only goes so far: walk long enough in a direction it doesn't expect or want you to, and it'll try again. "Could take another few feet, could take the equivalent of a few blocks."

That absent breathing rattles with the sound of air passing through tissue, as though from a deep wound - reverberates off the walls. Fleshy tendrils drape from what passes for a ceiling above them, listlessly catching light as they draw closer.

How charming.