"I… need your help," she managed, the pleading sickening her. There was no response for a long, agonizing time. At last the blue light approached, and Handy, trudging up through Tartarus only knew what lay in that ancient sluice tunnel he used to access her, stopped outside her grate. He was in a patchwork robe and hood, a cloak about his shoulders that at one point might have been fine, but was now torn, tattered, and covered in dirt and filth. His perennially attached armour she was so used to seeing on him was nowhere in sight. He looked at her from under the hood for a long time before speaking.