Furiosa shrugs grimly. "Everthing dies in time. Worlds included. I'm not surprised."

Her gaze on Samus is deadpan, analyzing rather than emoting, for the moment. Furiosa doesn't like being out of her depth, but that seems to be inevitable here. So she'll just focus on perfecting her poker face.

"I wouldn't rather," she answers quietly. "I lost it when I was a child, along with other things more valuable that I'll never get back. I'll stick with a prosthesis."

She follows the other woman calmly into the building, then pauses, regarding the owl without expression, then scanning the overlarge internal structure of the room around her. Her right hand comes up, rubs the back of her neck, and she turns and steps back outside.

Pardon her while she scans the edifice a second time, squinting, then comes back in and resigns herself to the strangeness. "Hm. All right."