"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.