Woe allows Anna to stride ahead with a heavenward eye roll as her guards exchange a slightly puzzled look, especially the one assigned to go in first. The Saint doesn't offer up an answer to any of Anna's questions - there's no need, given how loud the women-machine is.

The door swings open with a groan, and two dozen pairs of eyes look to Anna. They're an eclectic band, to put it mildly, representing a huddled spectrum of humanity from adolescent to elderly, all of them garbed in a mishmash of salvaged dark clothing and shaded with the wary guardedness of suffering that tends to make even the most disparate groups seem to resemble each other. Behind Anna, one of Woe's guards clears his throat, leaning to one side to call around her.

"Dinah?"

One of the representatives of the adolescent spectrum startles, clattering out of her chair to her feet with her dark brown eyes wide. She can't be older than nineteen, and is likely a handful of years younger, but this world has sharpened her cheekbones like knives underneath her tawny skin. She swallows hard, her mouth opening and closing as a fish's, and then she fumbles into an ill-advised cross between a curtsy and a bow.

"H- h-" The girl looks stricken when she bobs back up, her tongue unmastered, and Woe makes a small tetch of a noise behind Anna at the same instant that the girl's shoulders ease "Hello."