There's a shade of someone familiar in the look X returns to him; willful recklessness, but bent towards a just cause. Perhaps it's not such a mystery that the Fool follows him into the flames. (The self-awareness he experiences is a little exasperating, but it is somehow reassuring to know that leaving his own world behind has not changed his fundamental nature overmuch.)

The Fool squints his eyes against the smoke stinging at his eyes and hastily wraps some of the cloth of his cloak around his mouth and nose, but that doesn't stop him coughing. "Hello!" calls out the man beside and a bit in front of him, "Anyone still in there? Hello? Anyone deaf, blind, and can't smell?"

"How shall they answer, if they can't hear you?" the Fool retorts a bit smartly, but whatever else he has to say is lost when he hears someone cry out in the dark. He stiffens like a cat, then rushes forward into the smoke towards a door; it's barred from the outside by a bit of furniture that was either shoved in front of it to block someone's escape, or perhaps just fell there through a stroke of very poor luck.