Gideon's brow furrows, causing already smeared and flaking paint to smear and flake all the further. Perhaps she should have just washed the wretched stuff off the moment she'd been left to her own devices. She has never wanted any part of it, hadn't chosen to paint herself up like a true Ninth House oblate, and what's more it plays havoc with her skin. Not a hot look. But although she'd never admit to it... amidst all this sudden strangeness there's a certain comfort to be found in the familiarity of it. In the scent of it, even the thick, greasy feel of it. Disgusting thought, but there it is.

"You'd think they'd just send them back if they were...the wrong sort," whatever that might mean, and despite not having so much as laid eyes on them she feels a quick, hard stab of pity. She's well aware of how it feels to be unfairly incarcerated. "But they could be a bunch of psychopaths, for all we know. If we're meant to be their shining champions, and this other lot are unwanted then... maybe it's because - as people - they suck."

Words uttered more to soothe her own conscience more than anything. But it's something it might be worth looking into, later. A quick trip down into the dungeons.