[A younger Amelia whips her head around and stares at Henry with her green eyes full of distrust and caution. But because he is just a visitor in this memory, someone who blends and becomes part of its fabric her guard drops and she sighs heavily, while laying across the couch.]

Because that's what he did for a period of time. Yes, let's pull a random individual from somewhere and tell them to defeat his special apprentice to gain their freedom. Or he'd create something from whole cloth and it'd stalk me throughout this place and—

[Amelia stops when she realizes she's just ranting. The book on her legs is moved to cover her face and she just lays there like a melodramatic teenager.]

Ugh. Why am I even talking?