Woe turns on her heel and takes off briskly, expecting Sato to keep pace. Given the shortness of her legs, this isn't as difficult as it might otherwise be, however swiftly she stalks around on them.

"I have a facility," she says, ambiguously, and then she says no more before they reach a tucked back shopfront with broken glass in its windows and a sagging door she swings open with a wide sweep of her arm, revealing an oddly clean interior featuring a single overstuffed easy chair that is out of place in what appears, based on the trappings shoved against the walls, to have been a butcher's shop.

"Sit," she instructs, crisply, pointing at the chair.