"So you're—..." He sighs, dropping his hands in a huff to ball them into fists instead. "No one at all."

Daemon isn't sure what he was expecting. Something to make this all make sense, at least. Something that would let him keep on believing this is still a dream. He notices that single bucket seemingly for the first time and tries not to look ill.

"And how's that working out for you?" He brushes hair off his neck that's just now decided to start sticking to it. "No wonder you want to escape. If you're lucky, you'll only find yourself a head shorter."