Lucius isn't keen to walk down the sterile looking hallway toward the lift on his own so, when Izzy stops, he's acutely aware of it. He stops, half expecting something to attack them, but Izzy is just staring at the awful fluorescent lights. Not that Lucius knows what they are called, nor how they work, just that they do. He stops and stares, wondering if there's anything else to it, but it doesn't seem like.

He's dealt with so many people who treated him like he was crazy for not getting it that, even if Izzy's a prick (and he really is), he doesn't have the heart to jump straight to mockery.

"You would not believe the things they have around here," Lucius tells him in a stage whisper. "Like, for a haunted barge of the damned? This place is ridiculously posh."

Lucius may sound like he's considered how to steal everything. This is because he has. He has put quite a lot more thought into how to steal and rig up all of the items he would like to take back than he has put into the actual mutiny plan. He considers nudging Izzy with his elbow but realizes how suicidal that is right before he does it. Instead, he jerks a thumb at the ceiling.

"Yeah, okay, so half of it is possessed and murderous, of course, but the stuff that isn't? There's water on demand in your room. Hot or cold. No buckets. And they have actual little machines that will both wash your clothing for you and then dry it without a line or hanging. And the privies? Oh my god, they are everywhere and sparkling clean always."

Lucius cannot stress how much cleaning he is absolved from doing here. The ghosts do it all.

"I feel like I'm losing my mind every time I hear people bitching about how awful Hell is?"