Of course she is more than familiar with the requirements and limitations one's nature represents, but in her mind that's as much explanation as it is excuse. She of all creatures knows about overcoming the limits of one's purpose. He just doesn't want to try, he'd rather be destroyed. And the second half of the thing's lecture is utterly meaningless to her, more than that; it reeks of unreason and, as the Unicorn aptly noted, paradox. Her lip curls as though the stench was physical. If this is the sort of insight into Zagreus' psyche she's going to be given, she has no interest or use for it.

It's no surprise to hear he has been bored and directionless; she could tell as much from the sheer amount of trite drivel he's been sending her, but there is an urgency to the monster's frustration that makes her wonder. "He really has done nothing but languish, this entire time?" she asks, mostly to see if there isn't some new atrocity that requires her attention, or his punishment. She spares him only a brief glance, wary and unnerved by the fact that he hasn't tried to object to his creature's honesty so far, though he looks perfectly displeased.

The Unicorn chooses this moment to expel a heavy, hot breath of air and declares, "This universe quells," echoing the other manifestation's fierce frustration. With a disturbingly knowing tint to its neutral voice, it adds, "The Sickness lacks a pilot." And while the TARDIS knows that it's using narrow human words which equate to so much broader concepts in their shared mind, a pilot being direction and purpose and kinship, she still bristles violently at the too familiar term. He is nothing like a ship, nothing like her, and she turns an appalled look on the Unicorn, though no objection readily presents itself.