"Oh," he says, slightly cowed by her disinterest, but not really offended, because really, why should she even give a shit? He listens to her explanation of where he's going, sure, okay, why not, and becomes vaguely aware of the gaping pit before them.

"So-" he starts to say, when she hoists him up and hurls him.

"FUCK-!" he screams as he sails right over the mouth full of hungry-looking hellbeasts, and only barely has the sense to curl up and cover his head with his arms, by the grace of whatever gods have forsaken this version of his city landing in position to roll several feet and narrowly avoiding breaking anything.

Which is not to say it doesn't hurt like hell. The pain, so sudden and un-fucking-deserved, helps knock him back into some semblance of his usual aggressive shitweasel self.

"What the SHIT, lady?!" he shrieks, lifting himself up onto his hands. "What is wrong with you?!" Ow, fuck. One of his arms buckles beneath his weight, and he slumps onto the ground again. He's covered in scrapes, some of them actively bleeding, and while he's in one piece he's not sure he can walk very quickly now.

"Fucking... look, can you just tell me what's going on?" he says, sounding impatient and also reasonably put together for a guy who just got thrown across a chasm.