It didn't take much to figure out that Astrid was lost. Very lost. She had learned the word elevator, but had yet to understand the full concept of it or the fact that buildings in this world could have more than two or three floors. Thus, she has no idea what floor she's even on now, wandering in to peek around, noticing it looked, well, vaguely similar to all the other floors she'd happen upon.

But she keeps walking until she approaches a door. Staring down hard at it, she really hoped this one would be it: the exit. She doesn't even really hear the question directed at her as she takes in a deep breath and proceeds to open the mystery door.

Oh. A closet.

With a hard slam, she groans, stomping down her feet in frustration. "Son of a half-troll, blasted piece of dragon--!"

In her fit of stomping, she turns catching sight of the strange, err, person (?) sitting nearby. But well, she's seen enough weird things today that she's more concerned with keeping focus on her anger, pointing at the hope-killing closet door. "How do I get out of here!?"