[It strikes Palamedes in a way that it simply hasn't until this moment how young Paul is. Perhaps a boy valiantly (well, in his own little way) defending his mother does that, regardless; adding a dollop of youthfulness no matter the age. It makes him smile, if only a little.]

My mother is an Archivist. [Conversationally; he definitely pronounces the capital A.] Maybe you ought to come up with your own word.

[He doesn't comment further on the pain, although he puts a pin in it. Paul's insistence that he can handle pain is, hm, noteworthy? In its own way. Palamedes isn't planning on going hog wild with a scalpel, or anything, but he considers — well.

He'll bring a tin of biscuits or something. A book. A distraction.

He hums and looks at the nearest wall, lifting a corner of a piece of flimsy. The notes are, as expected, all there; given he remembers them all, it makes sense as much as anything else in here.]

I don't know how we get out of here beyond... Well. Did the magic stag happen to you, too, in any of these?

[It was weird! It just showed up! But for the sake of Paul not overexerting himself on blood magic, they can probably idle until a magic stag shows up. He's ready to do that.]