"Okay." He stands up. 

Elves move faster than human governments. It's starting to get a bit annoying. He follows AK.

AK leads him through some hallways, somewhat less austere than the main hall, until they reach a small, unadorned bedroom. "Feel free to put any... stuff here, I guess. Someone will show up in a bit to talk to you?"

"Okay. How long's a bit, I haven't slept since - I'm scared I'll have nightmares -"

"—oh. I think, half an hour? An hour maybe? I could get someone to keep you company..."

"No, it's okay."

"Okay. So, uh. Yeah."

Out goes AK.

...tiny scale models of any cameras or microphones in this room or its walls, in his hand?

Oh yeah there are some.

Sigh. 

He makes three Space Silmarils and brackets to hold them on the walls, and he vanishes his bed to intergalactic space and makes one more suited to his wings, and he flops down in it and buries his face in his pillow like a little kid who is sad that his parents are dead and thinks.

He doesn't mind that Brazil is a military dictatorship, by some definitions lots of the Ardas were military dictatorships and Shine was a military dictatorship with child labor that kidnapped and forcibly relocated all of the humans in the world. They had a really good reason but Behemoth and Behemoth-like things are also a really good reason. 

(This'd be so much easier to figure out if he could read their minds. But that's not ethical. He's a very ethical demon, that's important, that's more important than figuring this stupid Earth out -)

He rolls over and stretches out his wings and sings and waits.

Forty-seven minutes later, there is a polite knock on his door.

"Come in."

A prim and proper woman in a prim and proper grey suit does so. "Good afternoon. Epic, yes?"

"Yeah. Hi."

"I'm Doctor Ximenes. May I take a seat?"

"Yeah."

She does, crossing her legs. She's carrying a little clipboard with a pen attached. "I work here at the Center to help parahumans such as yourself deal with anything bad that happens in their lives. I'm here to talk, and listen, and understand you and your needs so that we can best fulfil them. Do you understand?"

"...you're a therapist? Boots's a therapist."

She nods. "Boots?"

"My parents weren't really okay after everyone died, so Boots sort of took care of me."

"Were they a friend of the family, then, or a relative?"

"Friend of the family." 

"And they were taking care of you for how long...?"

"Since São Paulo got destroyed and most everybody we knew died, until yesterday." He wraps himself in his wings.

"I'm very sorry for your losses," she says, sounding and looking sincere.

"I'm gonna figure out how to use my power to resurrect people and then they'll be back and they'll be so impressed with me for being so clever and everything'll be okay."