There is everything to do, and there is nothing to do, and even if it's the less true option Pluto certainly feels more of the latter. This place is a prison, or a lab, or perhaps both, and as beautiful as the terraforming here must have been she can't help but feel nostalgic for the vastness of space right now. To have tasted freedom, and Being, and everything else only to give it up now...

Well, she doesn't much care for it, does she? But there's not much she can do about that. So instead, she's redirecting all the love pent up within her to her companions in this beautiful cell. When she's not pacing, or gritting her teeth, or panicking- she is helping make wreaths, and putting flowers in the young ones' hair, and talking in that soft, level alto to whoever needs it most visibly.

And right now, the one who needs her most is the one directly asking her for help. She laughs gently, sitting beside him and eyeing the work he's finished. "You could! But you'll have to try a bit harder than that."