They actually only have elevators but he can take them down!

The curtains in the infirmary were all closed, but out in the hall he can see that the view is of more buildings and the Moon.

...Where the fuck is that.

Fine. Upstairs. Upelevator. To the teleport office.

Room 117 contains a man typing something intently who looks up when he hears footsteps. "Hullo there - oh, are you the portalsnack?"

"I got teleported here against my will. Are you the person to talk to about going home?"

"My notification says we were going to drop you off in a Valinor but if you don't want to go to a Valinor where do you wanna go, where's home?"

Shrug. "Didn’t you just hire someone to find that out?"

"Maybe so but not so's they'd tell me. You can have a sit and wait to hear back if you want."

He just wants to do whatever will make them quit pretending to be nice.

He sits. He hums The Song That Gets On Everybody's Nerves. His voice is awful.

"Coughdrop?"

Is he supposed to know that word. Wow, this place is full of alien things. Shrug.

The guy picks up a little wrapped candy out of his desk drawer and holds it out.

He takes the mysterious object and sticks it in his backpack.

"The last time I was definitely talking to demons I don't think they thought I knew what a Valinor is so I'm either curious or pretending to be curious."

"Oh, Valinors are this continent on Ardas, which are a kind of world. People who went through Angband collect there because it's convenient and pretty and full of very patient and helpful Elves who take care of them while they refuse to do things."

"That's very thoughtful of you but I literally have no needs."

"Sounds fake but okay."

He shrugs. "I don't pester you to prove your magic and you could do that without - man, I don't know, what would even prove to you that I don't have needs?"

"I dunno, it'd help if you were more specific? Don't need to eat, sure, lots of those, don't need to breathe, sure just like the folks next door - wouldn't benefit from a nice Elf singing you a song after you did a stint in a torture fortress, pull the other one."

He did really like the music. While he was hiding on Earth he had a lot of experiences that beat lying very still on flat stone by himself, so he's familiar with the existence of the category, but that music beat it by a surprisingly generous margin.

He shrugs. "I don’t think the demons thought I had any nice elves singing to me for centuries but I suppose I could be wrong."

"- I don't think I'm going to be able to follow this conversation if you keep talking like that."

Talking is also not a need. He sits in absolute silence with his eyes closed.

The guy will ignore him, then, and he can eavesdrop on people asking to be taken hither or thither.

Ugh. He contemplates math and resents the existence of language and waits for someone to let the teleporter know how to take him home.

Eventually the guy at the desk says, "They're having some trouble triangulating because it looks like you came through a world that bounces people in it an extra step."

He sighs. That's such an obvious excuse to keep him prisoner but it's nice that they're still making up excuses instead of just chaining him up. He does not comment on either of these things.

"So just to be clear, you’re not even ostensibly doing anything about Hell and ostensibly I can’t affect whatever you’re up to regardless of whether the contents of my mind are a trap?"

"...uh, right, though they're like, still trying, it's just taking a while."