Hythlodaeus's heart falls to see the chains - but perhaps that was to be expected. Yet it still feels... wrong. He knows, knows-- or at least believes he knows that Hades would not seek to escape. He was never one to truly run from responsibility. Hythlodaeus turns to the guard and barely manages to open his mouth before the man tiredly but resolutely explains that no, the chains stay on regardless of how tearful Hythlodaeus's pleas may be. It's not safe otherwise, for everyone involved. It's not what Hythlodaeus was hoping for, but... he can understand.

He turns back to the cell, trying to ignore how much he, too, wants to curl up and hide.

"...Hades."

But regardless of how feels, he must, he wants to help the man before him. Whatever else might have happened, whatever changes life has wrought in Hades, he is still one of Hythlodaeus's people - and he simply cannot believe that one of his kind would do something so horrific for pleasure or joy. And, indeed, Hades is the opposite of those things right now - a sad, painful sight.