[Henry deigns to move closer and... sit next to her, if she'll allow it, drawing his legs up. His casts around for the other half of her face in the meanwhile -- surely she wants that back, too?]

No, it's not the same. But in some ways, it is. The days that meld into each other, the passage of time becoming harder and harder to discern. And the captors, trying to make their subjects grow stronger by any means possible. The director of the lab was a little similar to your Witch King, too, at least because he pretended to care while hurting everyone, anyway.

[But... That and now you also know why there are very few things I'm frightened of in the present.]

You're right, this clears up that and then some. An angry psychic burning up on the beach was nothing in comparison, right?