R struggles to understanding the reasoning here - he gets the words, sure, but there's something not adding up. It takes R a long minute in that pit to put into groans what he wants to say. If it wasn't for the smell of wet earth, he could've almost believed they were back at the Capitol, Aunamee promising to help him with his Escort problem and dazzling with that particular smile of his.

"How...help?" R has to know. He's been dead for God knows how long, but unless things changed drastically since he kicked the bucket, he's (fairly) sure "help" doesn't involve torturing someone to death.