Anne sits up when Jack does, follows his lead in pulling on her boots, getting her coat and her swords set back at her hips. She didn't expect anything different, but she's glad all the same that he's moving on this. Jack's determination has seen them through plenty that was strange and dire before; nothing as otherworldly as this, but it's still a comfort.

Glad isn't the same as confident, though. That woman seemed certain of what she told them, and Anne can't entirely avoid a fear that she was right. The anxiety of it is embedded in Jack's syntax, even: when the way in was something invisible, something that shouldn't have been possible, somewhere they suddenly were and not somewhere they went, then a way out might only be the mirror of that, something they can't overcome, can't hope to understand.

But it don't serve anyone to think like that. So she just nods as she dons her hat, pulling the brim down as usual, before finally looking at him again.

"Then let's find it," she says decisively.