Oh. The jolt of familiarity that goes through Erin shows on her face; she knows, if not this exactly, something so like it as to be functionally identical. She nods, mutely, and takes a rather longer drink of her whiskey to steady herself after getting hit with that.

After a moment she wipes at her completely dry blindfold with the back of her hand.

"Sounds like rough work," she says after a moment. "I. Can only assume your necromancer isn't here, in which case I'm sorry for your loss. We all end up leaving people behind, getting taken here, but that's...well. I appreciate the clarification, Gideon. Trying to learn not to just leap to assumptions like a clown bastard."