"You saw no point in getting out of hell." His tone is this side of incredulous, and that's just to disguise the creeping familiarity. It sounds like those days when Wash wakes up bleak and exhausted and has to struggle to find a reason to get out of bed at all, only writ large and unsuccessful. Locus hadn't found his reason, or he'd lost it, and it had taken someone who was maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet to haul him away from certain death.

(There's a question as to how that was even physically possible, but that can wait.)

"Why?"