She has not made all that much progress. Like, it's being a model student of amateur first contact linguistics, and all, but it doesn't say much of its own and it doesn't make any leaps or figure out much from listening to the humans talk to each other. She'll have to come back another time, she guesses.

They climb back out, Tristan being the last to go since technically they didn't actually clear the dungeon, even though it feels a bit hollow.

And as soon as he's through the trapdoor, it slams shut behind him.

"...it was nice seeing you, too," he mutters to the door.

"I wonder if it can hear from here. Goodbye! I'll come back again later!"

If it can hear her it does not choose or have a way to respond.

"It probably can. They have some degree of control over the environment here around the entrance, too."

"That doesn't specifically imply hearing and it might matter how much intelligence it keeps onboard the oozes I was talking to versus the rest of it." Sigh. "That's the longest I've ever been in a dungeon, does it suck worse to come out of the field when it's been longer?"

"Oui. We sometimes have a picnic outside after, if it's clear of monsters and we haven't run through all of our supplies. Just to stay a while longer."

"Ugh. Should've thought of that before I ate my last apple."

"When we don't have leftover supplies it is better to just go instead of stick around thinking about how much it will suck. How do you say, arracher le pansemant, pull off the bandaid?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm walking, I'm walking." She does sort of hold her breath, over the last step, as though bringing dungeon-inflected air with her will help.

It doesn't, really. It feels kinda worse than she'd expected, it's amazing how humans can get used to things and forget how bad they can get. She's back in molasses, back underwater, back to being aware that she has muscles and joints rather than living in an ethereal vessel that responds perfectly to her will, back to being able to feel uncomfortable and achy and mundane.

"Bleuch!"

And just over yonder there are... kind of a lot more people with the government folks than there were when she arrived.

One of them makes a beeline for Simone. "Dr. Swan?"

"Uh. I'm Dr. Swan."

"I'm not even a doctor, let alone a swan."

"—apologies," says the bespectacled man, turning towards her. "You're younger than I expected.

"I believe Mr. Montigneaux said you have been able to communicate with the dungeon? I and my colleagues are part of a research project that would be very interested in this, and we would like to sponsor you continuing to do so, if so. ...not right now, of course you must be tired and need to rest, but I wished to talk to you and see if I could ask you to write some things down while the memories are still fresh."

"I've been writing things down the whole time but I can answer questions about it now if you may have interest in a pattern I didn't note explicitly while I was in there! I'm excited to have a sponsor, this might be a long haul."

"—oh, excellent. No, there was not anything in particular, just as much as you can remember of everything you said and did and what the dungeon did in response."

"Sure. Do you want to wait for me to write up a full publication-quality report and submit it for peer review or have a look right now?"

"I'd love to have a look right now. ...ah, your party—"

"We are not really her party. We were just watching her back."

"I see. Well, I guess there's no reason for you guys to stay? I don't mean to hold everyone here when you've been inside for days already."

"...Elisabel, will you tell me everything you find out? I do not want to wait until publication, this is all going to be revolutionary."