"I don't know-" Homelander stretches out the words, tapping a finger to his lips, "You could start by being honest with me. Can you do that?"

His voice dripping with condescension, sweet and low. She's no one, and she's locked up behind iron bars. It's not that she could possibly be useful, but there's also the niggling feeling that something might be off when the mages talk around his questions or when the local servants just stare at him blankly.

"How did you get here?"