The old-fashioned speech is...something alright. Mukuro wonders if she's been smacked on the head a little too hard and strains her ears a little harder, but nope they really are using throw-back lingo.

At first she wonders if she should fight her way out; she's not been actively threatened just yet, but her instinct warns her not to let her guard down. Perhaps she should take advantage of the situation; leap out of bed, take down the two, maybe three, people in this room and beat a hasty retreat to figure things out. She doesn't feel any threatening presence that could pose her a problem-

...ah. There's a new voice. And it may be calm, it may be gentle, but like the still ocean that lures unsuspecting ships, she can sense the deep, fierce under-current that lies underneath the smooth surface. Her gut pinpoints this man as the biggest threat in the room; until she can determine more about him, she's not going to make any rash moves.

So gently, just gently, Mukuro stirs, pretending to have just awoken from a painful sleep. It's not that hard to act that out though because wow does her body hurt. A LOT.