She's not liking it much at the moment, herself. Try to do a good deed, get lashed to a panicking xenophobe with a bunch of active magical artifacts. Break the conduit, unleash the energy -- that much she can grok despite his vague way of explaining things. "You could have said that to begin with," she growls, referring both to his failure to tell her that the conduits were active and to his failure to tell her he's just a panicky weirdo about people in general (if that's even true; it's not like he doesn't know she's really a tiefling under all this).

With him on the floor and her arms bound together and to his side, she doesn't have much choice but to sort of lounge next to him, painfully propped up on one elbow to maintain some semblance of not being entirely prone and helpless. Thus far the cords are only on her arms, but she knows better now than to move and make it worse.

"...I have an idea," she says, watching him gasp for air. "I can get us out of this, but you have to let me do it -- you have to trust me. And you have to tell me if there are any other enchantments on these things that are going to stop me from opening the dimension door."