Finn didn't know what to make of her words. For mortals, that's a lifetime, he knew. She must have been small and vulnerable during this time, too. He hated the mere thought.

When no other words were forthcoming, he stepped off of the stairs and watched light dance on the ceiling before turning back to her. "This is our home." Our. Hers, too, even if she didn't want it. "If you ever need somewhere to go, this place is always open to you."

Clearly, he still seemed to be under the assumption that she would be free to go. That was a bridge to cross later, though.

"Back then, you thought a garden would make it a little more lively. Couldn't really blame you at the time." The lack of sunlight even got to Finn every now and then, even if there was a time after her death that he couldn't stand to feel it on his skin. "Not bad so far, right?"