Grell's expression twists into one of discomfort that's almost entirely for show (he's not holding her that hard, after all), before smoothing into a grin. "My, my. I bet you say that to all the girls, when you aren't trussed up with the Phantomhive."

She flicks her wrist in his grasp, but doesn't make any effort to really pull it away. Why should she? It gives her a quiet little thrill that makes her feel almost normal. Like they could be anywhere, and it would be the same. And yet, as loathe as she is to admit it, she thinks Sebastian may be right. She could use help from someone who's a little more adept at this sort of thing than Ronald. No, not "help," exactly. An assistant. "Maaaybe," she sing-songs, rocking her wrist back and forth as she does. "But what if I say no? How are you going to get on, by yourself?"

Dire situations are no fun. She would have liked to keep that game going, but as Sebastian releases her hand, she realizes something: every single person here is desperate to get home. There could easily be more from their homeworld, and plenty of people, in general, with powers better suited to figuring out an escape route. People who have been here longer, people with more knowledge of how the tower works. In short, potentially dozens of people who are better choices, for helping Sebastian out. She's not stupid. She knows he's only offering her this alliance because he knows they want precisely the same thing. He really will find someone else, and fast, if she doesn't temporarily lay the games aside, and go with it. And if he does, he and his new ally will figure things out faster than she and Ronald will.

It really pains Grell, and it's obvious. Her lips press thinly together, her gaze rolls towards the ceiling, for a moment. "You ought to be glad you're so handsome. I wouldn't say yes for just anyone, you know. But do have a care to keep one thing in mind: I was here first. You're helping me."

She hmphs audibly. That little smile is as secretly exciting as the way he grabbed her wrist, but it also confirms what she already knew to be true: she needs Sebastian more than he needs her, and he could dump her in a heartbeat, if the kid shows up, or someone else comes along. Again, she wishes Will was here. Then, this wouldn't even be a decision she'd have to make. She'd be on Will's team, and that would be the end of that.

"Isn't it obvious?" She shrugs, folds her arms over her chest. This is strange, actually - standing in front of the demon, with no weapon bared. "What's the last thing you remember? The ship was sinking, wasn't it? You had a mortal wound~. Who's to say we survived?"

"In the midst, you say. What if they overtook you? Or Undertaker reared his obnoxious head, again? He almost got the better of you, once. That was a sight to see," she smirks. As angry as Grell was - and still is - at the former reaper, she'd be lying if she said she'd ever seen anything more exciting than the demon getting run through with a death scythe. All that blood, arching through the air, drops littering the carpet, far, far below...She can still picture it, perfectly.

"Such a shame they healed your wound," she says, with a little sigh. "What fun we would have had, if I could've nursed you back to health."

Grell is going to push her argument, just on the cusp of opening her mouth to speak, in fact, when Sebastian moves on to his second thought. Her surprise (good surprise, though. Very good) is plain on her face, and her fingers clasp together. She would have thought, based upon their previous encounters, that he'd prefer keeping it in the open. But he wants to go somewhere. He wants to have a proper discussion with her. The demon she's been gushing about to Ronald for months. Wants to have a discussion. And tea. Oh boy.

"Well," she says, as emphatically as possible, "You're awfully forward, when the little boy isn't around. To say yes, or decline respectfully, that is the question." She taps her lower lip with the tip of her finger. "A lady, unchaperoned, with a demon escort. But I think I'll say yes. I do crave an adventure." As if being here wasn't enough of one, already. And if he's going to be forward about this, so is she. She hooks her arm through his, as they head for the elevator.

Grell's mind is going a mile a minute, not even with jitters, as would be the case with anyone else (She doesn't actually have the sense to be bothered by being alone with a demon.), but in an attempt to decide how she's going to over-inflate this story, when she relays it to Ronald. She'll say he cornered her against the elevator wall, whispered a warning not to betray the confidence of their little meeting, of course. That sounds properly scandalous, doesn't it? Yes, she thinks so.

And she's so busy thinking this, concocting this completely imaginary scenario, that it takes her a moment to notice her companion has made a sound. Then she blinks, her face slightly flushed, as if he might have read her mind, just there, and turns to look at him. "Hm? What's that all about? Don't tell me - you're plotting how to ravage me, already." She squeezes his arm against her side and thinks she'll add that to the version of story she tells Ron.

"Oh, that's nothing. We have nicer at the offices. To think I know something you don't know!" Grell laughs, and even to her own ears, it sounds quite loud and raucous, bouncing off the confining walls of the elevators. It would have made the quiet all the more obtrusive, if she had let any follow it, but she prattles on with, "The network was no~thing for me. I only had to make its acquaintance, a bit, and off we went. But I will say the network computers trump the ones in the personnel office, and that's a bleeding shame." This place probably isn't sentient or anything, but she still doesn't want it to have the pleasure of being better than somewhere else, at anything.

But her companion said something more important than Jeez Look At This Technology, didn't he? Grell takes another look at the buttons by the elevator door, as if she's going to see something she hasn't noticed, before. Nope, same as ever. Only a few destinations, and yet the building is so large that she hasn't even traversed the entire thing, yet. "But it is a mystery, isn't it? A mystery too great for even the likes of you, though, darling?" She doesn't think so. This is the winning team, right here. All the other suckers in this place might have been toiling for months, but as far as Grell knows, there aren't supposed to be puzzles demons can't eventually figure out.

"I knew you'd come around to it!" she exclaims, hopping up to sit on the counter beside his work area, and leaning in. "Let's have at it again, shall we?" Her voice lowers when she asks, as if there was anyone else around, who could hear her. As if they would care, if they did. There's a thump, as Grell swings her feet, and her heels smack the cabinets under the countertop. It's as loud as her heart sounds in her own ears, for a moment, when she thinks to herself that it's really true, this demon thinks she's FUN.

"If only you could have been there," she goes on. "Before, you know. I might have let you have the souls of those whores. What kind of taste they would have left in your mouth, I don't know, but I can hardly say they deserved the care and attention I showed them." That, Grell supposes, is how William caught her. She's never asked him, but it has to be. When she killed those women, she reaped their souls, and someone must have filed a report saying that files were appearing in the library, bearing her signature, when she hadn't been around to assign work to, for months. Hmph. But what else was she supposed to do? She hadn't known there was a demon who might have come in handy, until the last moment. Ordinarily, soul-stealing wasn't a thing she approved of, any more than anyone else at the dispatch. But if it had been directly to her benefit...that would be another story.

"And charity is a virtue, Sebastian darling." Grell thumps her boots against the cabinets, again. "They'd cancel each other out, and no one would be any the wiser." If, that is, it could really be considered charitable, to donate souls to a demon, on the grounds of one's own self-preservation. Maybe not, but Grell isn't going to bother seeing it that way.

"But as we were saying," she goes on, before she can get lost in the rhythmic nature of watching him prepare tea. She still can't understand how she's so wretched at it. It looks so easy, like there's nothing to it. And it isn't as if she's the worst cook in the world. She simply can't make tea, without letting it go cold, get too potent and turn bitter, or leaving it weak. "I don't believe you would know, if you lost your control~. There's no evidence to be had, that you aren't dead, as we speak."

"Feelings are deceiving. I've told quite a few people that, already." Which is ironic, really, since Grell's belief that they're all dead isn't much more than a feeling. It isn't even, strictly speaking, a hunch or a theory. It's just the concept that makes her feel the most in control of the situation, the safest. Consciously, she really does believe that she believes it, but that's only the product of her cockiness combined with her own mind's attempt to provide a buffer against the alarm the situation could cause her. To give it up, to acknowledge that maybe they were dragged from their lives, would be to acknowledge that there's a force in that universe both that powerful, and that malevolent, and that's not something Grell has any desire to believe. To feel she's been the victim of anything more than circumstance...that's not something she wants.

Her kicking of the cabinets actually pauses, while she hmphs at Sebastian, again. "How is anyone meant to know, when they slip away in their sleep? I was unconscious, before Will came for us. I don't think I was awake for long, after." Grell doesn't remember passing out again, on the boat William rescued them in, but it still seems the most plausible, to her. She woke up when she was dragged from the water, fell asleep again - she had been knocked around the head a few times, after all - and...something happened. The water swelled over them, and Will couldn't keep control of the boat. Or the dolls overwhelmed them. Surely anything could have happened.