[March shows up ten minutes later, in a soft, pastel-blue hoodie and her hands tucked in its front pockets. She's clearly tired and still guilty, shoulders hunched up as she walks closer to Persephone like a woman doing her best to keep some dignity as she's marched up the steps to the gallows.]

...hi? [A pause.] They're okay, right? Hermes. They were—seeing things, like everyone else was, but I don't know if the things they saw were supposed to be private, or anything.